The Fortissimo at Seika!
by Alyssa James
Summary: The mundane everyday for each person is different. Ayuzawa Misaki, Usui Takumi, even Heiwajima Shizuo... their lives are totally different, yet always interconnected. Especially when Shizuo happens to be Misaki's cousin, visiting the Ayuzawa household to watch her and her sister. At least Usui finally knows where she got her strength from. USUI X MISAKI
1. Chapter 1

**PART ONE**

Ikebukuro—a city of lights, murder, and secrets where the mundane "everyday" happens to be avoiding a certain raven-haired informant, a blonde man in a bartender outfit, and hoping never to be in the crossfire of any colored gang. The everyday where more and more people are joining the Dollars, an invisible organization, avoiding bounty hunters, and maybe catching a quick glimpse of the Black Rider while she rides on her soundless motorcycle. The everyday where a sword wielding Slasher attacks random civilians, where the Yellow Scarves fight against the Dollars, and where three very powerful best friends, completely unaware of each other, continue on with their everyday lives. Yes, here in Ikebukuro, this all constitutes for normality.

"IZAAAAAAAAAYAAAAAAAAA!"

This is also normal. Remember the informant and the man gallivanting around in a bartender outfit? They happen to be arch nemeses, mortal enemies if you will, each as dangerous as the other. The raven-haired informant was quick and steady with a switch blade—he was called Orihara Izaya and he knew everything there was to know about anybody. He loved all humans, save for the blonde, and loved watching them in despair like some twisted god he attempted to be. The man chasing him with a vending machine? His name is Heiwajima Shizuo, a short tempered bartender turned debt collector who has absurd strength and hates everything about Orihara Izaya; from him ruining his peaceful high school life to just about the air he breathes. Speaking of which…

Shizuo hefted the vending machine over his shoulder, his eyes shining in utmost hatred, as he took in the small, black form of Izaya. Then, without so much as pulling a muscle, he threw the machine at the informant. Izaya smirked (his most common expression), dodged just at the last minute and watched as the machine connected with a fire hydrant. The water poured out like some sort of mini tsunami and had enough force the break the machine. While Izaya was completely dry, his enemy was soaked to the bone with enough water to give an army.

Smiling, Izaya waved at Shizuo. "Shizu-chan~ You missed! Unless, of course, you were aiming for that, you stupid monster." Izaya chuckled darkly, looking as if he might strike the blonde, but at the last second, he grabbed a few snacks from the now destroyed vending machine. He smiled at Shizuo. "Thanks for the food, Shizu-chan~ You've been a big help!"

"IZAAAAAAAAAAAYAAAAAAAAAAA! I'M GOING TO KILL YOU!" And then, true to his word, Shizuo got up, completely ignoring his soaked attire and began to run after the chuckling man. Along the way, he picked up a street sign, hefted it over his shoulders, and got prepared to use it like some sort of death scythe. Izaya just laughed, his tone childish, as he easily avoided the weapon.

Yes, it was just another regular day in Ikebukuro. Completely and utterly normal.

XXX

On the other side of Japan, another everyday was happening for the students of Seika High. Their everyday wasn't quite as adventurous as the one in Ikebukuro, but it did have its quirks—one of them being the so-called "demon president" that instilled fear into the hearts of many. Well, that's not entirely true; first off, she wasn't really a demon, and second, she only instilled fear in the nearly eighty percent male student body. All the girls loved her—as a big sister of course—and many of the boys grumbled in anger or annoyance, but never had enough guts to go against the President. And it was with this—her hope to expand the female population and to suppress the male—that made her a formidable foe nearly all around. Of course, her training in Aikido, her studying methods, or just the plain fact that her drive to not give up was exceeded by no others could have something to do with it, but we're not going to get into that right now.

This girl's name is Ayuzawa Misaki, a fairly average looking girl with shoulder-length black hair and brown eyes so light they appeared golden. Her family situation wasn't the best (as they had little money and her father had abandoned them when she was a child) but she knew it wasn't the worst and that was enough for her to keep trying to improve herself. Or, as it stands, trying to improve her school.

"Yukimura! What the hell is this MESS?!"

The boy named Yukimura trembled, for though he respected the President, she still scared him. He was a feminine looking boy, much smaller than the others of his grade and height, but was probably one of the few guys who respected Misaki and even thought that she was cool. He was also her Vice President. Go figure.

Yukimura gathered his courage. "U-um… i-it's… from the wrestling team…" He waited for her to yell at him or, worse yet, have him go deal with it, but all he heard was silence. Glancing up, he realized that she was nowhere to be found. In her place was Takumi Usui, a green-eyed son of an international millionaire with shaggy blonde hair and roguishly handsome good looks. He was nearly the envy of every guy at school and the center of nearly all the female student body. Save for one, of course.

"Yo, Yukimura-kun~" he cooed, though his expression was bored. "Do you know where Miss President is?" At Yukimura's shrug, Usui sighed and leaned in especially close to him. The Vice President started to shake, his eyes avoiding Usui's own, his mind remembering back when Usui had kissed him, how soft his lips were… NO! He shook his head. He was not gay and even if he was, he was pretty sure Usui wasn't! But then again Usui did start the kiss… NO! What was he saying! He was not gay!

During this inner turmoil, Usui heard some strange… grunting sounds coming from a nearby locker room. Cocking his head, he left the near hysteric boy in the hall, while Yukimura continually tried to reassure himself that he was not gay. Once Usui reached the locker room, he leaned his ear against the door, but didn't hear anything. He shrugged his shoulders, figuring he had nothing else better to do since his favorite brunette was nowhere to be found, and opened the door.

Only to be met with the sight of a flying 200 pound behemoth from the wrestling squad.

The man hit the opposing wall with a sickening thud and Usui stared, shocked, as the guy slipped down the wall before becoming a mess of spit on the floor. Almost like he was in a horror movie, Usui turned slowly towards the now silent locker room before he smiled at the sight.

"And if you ever make a mess like that again—" His beloved Misa-chan had two of the members suspended in the air in a death grip—"then I'll be sure not to go easy on you. GOT IT?!" The two suspended members cried out in fear and pain as they yelled a garbled, "YES!" to the President.

At that, Misaki felt they had been sufficiently punished and let them fall to the floor in a pile. It was when they did this that Usui realized the other members of the wrestling team were thrown about the room like ragdolls. As though she hadn't just beaten the shit out of nearly ten guys twice her weight, Misaki said to those still conscious, "Oh—clean up that mess in the hall too. I expect it to be done before the end of today." And with that, she left the semi-scared shitless wrestlers behind.

"Wow, Misa-chan was so strong and cool~ Now if only she could act more like a girl…" Usui just barely had enough time to move as Misaki tried to punch him in the head. Seeing her pissed expression, he smiled. Really, it was just too much fun messing with the President. And besides, even though he teased her, he rather liked this fiery part to her personality. Not that she couldn't be cute or that he didn't worry about her, but it was because she was so different from the other girls that he was attracted to her. That among other reasons.

"So sorry if I don't act like a girl!" she huffed, attempting to hit him again, only to have it blocked lazily by the blonde. He smirked, uncurled her fingers, and held her hand like one would a lover. Her face went scarlet red as she wretched her hand out of his grip and began to walk, quite quickly, to the student council office. Usui followed right behind her. "And stop following me! You're not part of the student council, so don't come into the room!"

Yes, even here it was another regular day. A regular day for Misaki and Usui, that is.

XXX

"Huh? You want me to come for a visit?"

After Shizuo had gotten back from chasing Izaya from Ikebukuro, he returned to his apartment, hoping to catch a nap before Tom and he collected debts. Well, while Tom collected debts and he made sure they paid him using any means necessary. He wasn't known as the fortissimo of Ikebukuro for no reason, after all.

But yes, he wanted to take a nap—it'd been too long since he'd last had a peaceful night's sleep, dammit! Everything, from the attack of the hordes of Slasher victims, to fighting Izaya, to beating up those guys in the Yellow Scarves, from fighting Izaya, to destroying that blonde-haired mockery of the human race that had shot him, to fighting Izaya…

He felt his patience wane and, in an attempt to calm himself, he grabbed another cigarette and started smoking. Really, why was the flea always around Ikebukuro? Didn't he have anything else better to do in Shinjuku, like get a job or a girlfriend? What was so damned interesting in Ikebukuro? Pissed, he spit his cigarette on his floor, stepped on it, and grabbed the largest piece of furniture he could find. The unfortunate piece happened to be his refrigerator, a brand new stainless steel behemoth that weighed nearly 400 pounds and almost quadruple Shizuo's weight. Just as he was about to fling it at the nearest wall (or Izaya), the phone rang. As though he wasn't about to completely remodel his apartment, he gently placed the fridge back on the floor and went to answer his phone, already lighting another cigarette.

"Hello?"

"Hello, is Heiwajima Shizuo there?" The person on the other end was definitely a woman, that much Shizuo could discern, but as he raked through his memories, he couldn't remember ever hearing her voice before. It was high, almost like a high school student's, but Shizuo had the sneaking suspicion that she was much older than that. So, then, who was this woman? And how did she get his number?

"Uh, yeah." He took a puff of his cigarette. "That's me, actually. Who's this?"

This woman, this strange, unknown woman, giggled on the other end in embarrassment. "Oh! I'm terribly sorry! It's just…" she lowered her voice as if she was telling a secret, "it's been a while since I'd last heard you. I guess I just keep expecting to hear a child's voice, not a grown man's!" The woman laughed like she didn't have a care in the world, while Shizuo's cigarette fell from his mouth. 'Expecting to hear a child's voice'? Who the hell was this chick?!

The woman sucked in a deep breath and Shizuo wondered if she had choked. Then, with as much seriousness as she could muster, she said, "My name is Ayuzawa Minako. Or, as you probably remember, Auntie Mina. My husband, Sakuya, was your father's brother." She seemed to sound upset when she mentioned that and Shizuo wondered if there was bad blood in between the two.

Shizuo's eyes widened. Auntie Mina? He didn't remember ever having an aunt like that… But wait! She said Sakuya, right? If memory served correctly (and Shizuo hoped it did), he did remember a rather imposing man named Ayuzawa Sakuya, a man who was one of the few people who received Shizuo's respect. He'd been his father's half-brother, connected by their mother, so his last name had been very different from Heiwajima. So then… Auntie Mina was probably the dark-haired woman he'd brought to the house a lot. Though there hadn't been anything absurdly memorable about her, she would always play with Shizuo, right up until the family moved away. He remembered some other kid too—a little baby by the name of Misaki. She'd been what… two? And he could distinctly remember Minako being pregnant again before they left Ikebukuro.

"Hello? Shizuo-kun?"

Snapping out of his thoughts, Shizuo answered with, "Yeah, yeah, I'm here. Look, I'll cut right to the chase: what do you want, Auntie? It's been what—seven years? I'm sure you're not just calling to say hello."

Minako sighed tiredly. "Yes, yes, you're right. I know this seems somewhat forward of me, but I was wondering… No, no. You probably wouldn't agree to that."

Shizuo sucked in a deep breath and prayed to God or whatever deity was listening to not let him lose his temper with her. "Just spit it out already, Auntie." He really needed a cigarette.

"Do you think you could come for a visit?" At Shizuo's incredulous silence, she continued hurriedly, "Please. I'll… be away for a week or so and as much as I trust Misaki, she needs time to be a teenager." Then she said to herself, "Of course, Suzuna could probably take care of herself… But what kind of mother would leave their children unattended? Oh, what to do… Shizuo-kun? Shizuo-kun?"

Shizuo was no longer listening. Him… leave? Contrary to popular belief, Shizuo hadn't been out of Ikebukuro his entire life. The one time, the one single time he'd left, he'd only gone to Okinawa for a school trip. But to leave Ikebukuro… well, he guessed, in a way, it was a vacation. _Plus_, he smirked; _I wouldn't have to deal with that damn flea for an entire week! I could finally have a peaceful life that he stole from me!_

"Shizuo-kun?"

"I'll do it." Shizuo couldn't help imagining his new peaceful life. "I'll watch your kids."

It seemed like the ordinary day was about to change. For Misaki, for Usui, and for Ikebukuro.

XXX

After they said some small formalities, Minako hung up the phone. She was so glad! At first she'd been worried—she hadn't talked to Shizuo in quite some time and was afraid that he'd hang up before she'd be able to say anything. Or worse yet, he wouldn't be able to remember her and then she'd have to stop her date with Sakuya.

Yes, that's exactly what she was doing: she was going on a date with the man who supposedly left her. Misaki didn't know, Suzuna didn't know; heck, a couple of weeks ago, she would've called you crazy if you'd mentioned her going on a date with her ex-husband! The thought still made her dizzy and she would've fainted from happiness, if not for another person in the room.

"So how did it go? Is Shizu-chan coming here?"

Minako smiled, something that rivaled a thousand light bulbs, and gave the man a hug. "Oh, Orihara-san! It worked! I'll get to see little Shizuo-kun again but besides that, I'll get to see my husband! I'm… so glad…" And with that, she buried her head into Izaya's shoulder.

The one and only Orihara Izaya smiled down at her and returned the hug. Though, if Minako had been paying any attention at all, she wouldn't have missed the dark gleam in his eyes or the way his hand clenched in anticipation. "I'm glad it worked out, Ayuzawa-san. It—"

"Oh, you don't have to be so formal! Call me Minako-chan, if you will. We've been talking for the past six months, after all!"

Izaya smirked at the oblivious mother. "Alright, Minako-chan. But are you sure you want to leave?" Though he needed her gone, he was simply playing the part of a caring friend. Besides, he knew about the woman well enough that she wanted desperately to leave for a week. Much as she loved her kids, she missed her husband more so, so she wouldn't give up a chance to three days in Okinawa paid for by none other than the raven-haired informant. Izaya smirked; humans were just so predictable!

True to form, Minako only took a second before saying, "Misaki's always telling me to take it easy—you know, take time off and the like. But I'm still a little worried… I mean, don't you think she'll be suspicious that I'm going away for a vacation? We don't have a lot of money as it is…"

Izaya waved his hands like he was waving the matter away. "Oh, Minako-chan~ I'm sure your daughter will be fine. Just say you're visiting relatives."

"I'm still not sure…"

Izaya _tsked_, then grasped Minako by the shoulders and forced her to look at him. "It's all right. Shizu-chan is very dependable~ Besides, Misaki can take care of herself for one week." Minako still looked unsure, but slowly, she nodded and acquiesced. Izaya had expected that type of resistance, so he hadn't been surprised when she left with a strange look in her eye. He had an accurate suspicion that she wouldn't stay away for the entire trip, but that was okay. His plan would work better that way, anyway. He smirked.

_Oh, Shizu-chan~ This is going to be so much fun! _

XXX

… **And here I am writing a story while most of my others are on hiatus. I'm a douche, I'll admit xD But seriously… this plot bunny was bugging the shit out of me and I had to write. Had a lotta fun, too. I just finished Durarara the other day, so if I start going on a DRRR binge, you understand why.**

**BTW, according to the Kaichou wa Maid-sama wiki, Minako is Misaki's mother's name and Sakuya is her father. I'm not sure if Minako is in character (after all, she was only described as being ditzy from where I've read) so hopefully she isn't too OOC.**

**At the most, this'll be a three-shot… maybe a four-shot if I'm feeling adventurous. Hopefully you liked this and if you can, review! It'll mean the world.**


	2. Chapter 2

**PART TWO**

"It stinks."

"Like what exactly?"

"Shit."

There was a sigh. "You've been saying that since we got here. I don't smell anything, let alone _**that**_. Maybe it smells weird because we're not in 'bukuro anymore?"

A blonde eyebrow rose, apparently nonplussed, but nothing else was said as a cigarette was lit. After a particularly quiet moment, he said, "No—it isn't that. It smells like that damn flea."

His partner sighed and rubbed his temples, already feeling a headache coming on. The man had dark, shoulder length dreads, something completely uncommon for a Japanese man. Not like he was a regular Japanese man; his name was Tanaka Tom, a debt collector from the bustling city of Ikebukuro and probably one of the only people able to control a certain blonde-haired bartender. A bartender, who, at the moment, was trying to find his cousin's house—_trying _being the key word. The directions they had gotten were simple enough—turn left at the train station, right, left again and then you were basically there—but somehow, Shizuo had gotten them beyond lost. Currently, they were meandering around the business section of the city, whatever the hell _that_ meant.

Tom sighed again. "We're lost, aren't we?"

"No."

His patience snapped. "We ARE lost, but you're just too damned stubborn to admit it. Come on; I think I saw a café a little ways back. Let's go there and get directions." And without further ado, Tom turned around and began to walk back, leaving a bewildered Shizuo behind. He didn't even have time to get angry at the debt collector, it was that sudden. Shrugging his shoulders, he followed the irate man towards the café he'd been talking about.

As they neared the infamous building, Shizuo stopped in shock. There—no, no, this had to be a mistake. There was no way in HELL that Tom meant this place. It was just too… cute, too frickin' PINK to be what he meant. Just as Shizuo was about to walk away or, better yet, question Tom's sanity, the man in question waltzed right into the obscene parlor as if he had no care in the world.

Yep, questioning his sanity it was then.

Shizuo stared after him for a few more moments, dumbfounded, before he shook off his stupor and made his way in. He wasn't prepared for what happened next.

There were woman everywhere. Women with dark hair, women with light hair, petite women, pretty women, semi-attractive women, women with glasses… all of them were completely different, ranging from table to table, customer to customer. There was only one similarity between all of them.

They were all in maid costumes. Honest to God maid costumes. Shizuo felt his eyebrow twitch in annoyance, wanting desperately to throw his cigarette on the ground. He didn't though. He was actually being fairly reasonable. It wasn't like they were doing this on purpose to annoy him or anything. Plus, they were girls. No matter how pissed off he got, he couldn't hit a girl. They might cry and no matter what happened, no matter who he was or who he was known as, he couldn't bear to see a girl cry.

"Welcome home, Master!"

There was a twitch. _Keep calm Shizuo, keep calm…_

The girl, one whose hair was an unusual orange cropped just above her shoulders, smiled brightly at him. Her eyes were a light hazel, something like freshly polished wood, and her skin was unmarred. She was pretty, in a simplistic way, and she seemed fairly nice too; but Shizuo couldn't help grimacing as he imagined her angry, sweet smile and all. He shivered.

"Um, sir? Are you alright?" she asked, her smile sliding off her face. "You look a little pale."

Flustered, Shizuo waved his hands like he was waving the matter away. "Uh—uh—yeah… I was looking for someone…"

The girl tilted her head. "A maid?"

"Er, no… there was a man—with dreadlocks? His name's Tom-san…"

The maid grasped her chin, pretending to recollect her memory, but in actuality, she remembered. Considering that she had only ever seen one man with dreadlocks a few moments ago, she assumed that's who he meant. But dammit! This guy was seriously pissing her off! He seemed completely immune to her charms, almost like some naïve little boy, and she had a feeling he wouldn't stay in the café. The nerve of some people!

She didn't say any of this to him though. Instead she giggled. She was the caring type, after all. "Well, Honoka-chan hasn't seen your friend. Maybe you could wait in the café? We sell all sorts of delicious sweets! What do you say?"

Just as he was about to answer, the ringing of the door signified another customer.

It was none other than the Idiotic Trio, all three walking side by side respectively, clamoring on about some maid named 'Misa-chan.' Frankly, Shizuo didn't give a fuck. Without a care in the world, the three ran into the blonde bartender, causing Shizuo to fall forward a step.

One of them—he had black hair pulled into a low ponytail and his eyes were a slate grey—gave Shizuo an apologetic look. "Sorry, we weren't looking where we were going—,"

The black haired boy stopped as he heard the other man mumbling something under his breath. Leaning forward, he gulped as the words reached him.

"Kill kill kill kill kill kill. KILL!" He threw his cigarette on the floor and stomped it out, looking like an angry child who hadn't gotten a toy he was promised. The man whipped around, his glasses barely suppressing his rage as the three tumbled into a quivering pile on the floor.

"So!" he barked out, taking his glasses off his face. "You just ran into me! You do realize that that had the 0.0000000001 percent chance of killing me? Huh? HUH?!" He grabbed the two nearest boys' shirts. "With that logic, whatever happens to you is entirely your fault, RIGHT?" And, without another warning, he threw the two boys out of the restaurant like they were rag dolls. The landed outside on the rough concrete—the force being enough to throw their clothes off—as the last boy, one with short blonde hair and pierced ears—screamed.

"Ah, Ah! Misa-chan! Misa-chan!"

His voice was grating on Shizuo's nerves—so much in fact that he grabbed the nearest item, which happened to be a metal table—and threw it through the window before grabbing the boy and having him follow suit. Luckily, or perhaps not luckily at all, he landed on the other two idiots, knocking the wind out of all of them.

To say Honoka was shocked would be an understatement. Never had she seen such brute strength! This guy—he had to be inhuman! The only person with such strength that she had ever met was…

"What do you think you're DOING?! THIS ISN'T A BOXING RING!"

Shizuo stopped dead in his tracks. Who…?

Suddenly, a pissed girl made her way towards him and placed her hands on her hips. "I don't know who you are, but this is a relaxing establishment! Just because someone runs into you doesn't give you the right to throw them through a wall! You understand how much that's going to cost?!"

Shizuo stared at her dumbly. The girl wasn't anything special; she had simple, black hair that accentuated her face and light brown eyes, plus a petite frame covered in a maid uniform. She was cute, almost homely in a sense, but Shizuo had seen cuter girls before. Plus, not like he'd admit this to anybody, but the look she was giving him was so intense, so fucking scary, that Shizuo felt it would be better to not mention this fact to her at all. She looked ready to skin him alive.

She had good reason too. The doorway was in shambles; the entire wall broken in chunks on the floor. Granted, it was only dry wall, but he had also broken the window, a bulletin board; he had bent the table in half, creating unusual bumps along the edges; and he was fairly sure he had broken a few limbs of the boys he had thrown into the street.

The point was, he'd lost control. _Again_.

"Well?"

He rubbed the back of his neck, clearly embarrassed. "Ehe… I might've went a little… overboard."

The girl's eyebrow twitched, but before she could scream at him more, a woman stumbled upon the scene at the door. "Misa-chan! What on earth…?" She finally noticed the destruction, from the broken wall, to the shattered glass, to the terrified customers crowding the scene, to Shizuo's guilty expression, even to Misaki's pissed one.

All in all, it was a disaster. The woman gave one last look around, clearly shell shocked, before she passed out.

"MANAGER!"

XXX

Misaki was not having a good day.

It was fairly normal, she knew, and completely peaceful, but that's why it was annoying her. Boring, peaceful, mundane days were fodder for a certain blonde-haired, green-eyed boy she knew.

"Misa-chan~"

Misaki gritted her teeth. He'd been saying that for the past ten minutes, in that same sickly sweet tone, and it was starting to wear her thin. But she refused to play his games—refused to be a fool or a toy—and was currently trying her best to ignore him completely.

"Misa-chan~"

It wasn't working.

"Misa-cha—,"

"Will you just SHUT UP?!" At Usui's kicked puppy look, Misaki bit her lower lip, feeling slightly guilty, before she yelled again, "Don't at look at me like that! You've been saying 'Misa-chan' for the past ten minutes! AND WHY THE HELL ARE YOU FOLLOWING ME TO WORK?!"

At Misaki's flustered expression, Usui smirked. "But Misa-chan~ The Manager asked me to bake part time tonight as well."

_Manager… please hire proper help!_

"F-fine," she conceded, though she still wished Usui would, she didn't know, get a life. The fact that he always seemed to be ready—willing even—to work was a little odd, especially at the capriciousness of her Manager. What did he do with his spare time anyways?

"Ah—we're here." Somewhere during Misaki's thoughts, Usui had made his way in front of her, stopping when he reached the café. Misaki, not really paying attention, ran into the back of him, giving him some sort of awkward hug. Sputtering quickly, she went to remove her arms…

…only to have them restrained by Usui's own.

Though his words were light, his tone was anything but. "Well well, Misa-chan… I didn't know you could be so forward." He spun around, a cheeky grin on his face, as he stared at his Misa-chan, bright blush and all. She looked so cute right now, so ridiculously delectable…

Misaki wasn't faring any better. She was so close to Usui and… and… she could feel her heart fluttering in her chest. Just like his words, he had a smile on his face, but there was something in his gaze—something decidedly primal—that terrified her. He looked like a lion on the prowl, but on the prowl for what she wasn't sure—

Suddenly, Misaki remembered her awkward position. Tearing her arms away from Usui, she bit out, "Wh-what do you think you're doing? Ugh! I can't go anywhere with you without being sexually assaulted! Stupid perverted space alien!"

The mood was broken. The primal look in Usui's eyes left just as quickly as it had come, only to be replaced with a mocking superiority. Misaki absolutely despised that look, but she was sure as hell she didn't want to see those eyes again. At least Usui was still Usui. That much hadn't changed.

"Shall we go, my lady?" He propped the door open with his foot, ushering Misaki in with a wave of his hands.

Misaki slapped those hands away and walked through the door on her own, muttering, "Stupid Usui," as she went, though the words were decidedly lacking venom. Usui feigned a hurt look—something that may or may not have been seen by the obstinate girl—and followed her in.

When he was sure Misaki wasn't looking, he smiled. It couldn't be helped.

XXX

After the incident outside of the café, Misaki had changed into her maid outfit, and had begun serving different customers. Usui, true to his word, stayed in the kitchen and was baking cakes—cakes that made Misaki's mouth water just by looking at them, that made all of the other Maid Latte cooks green with envy. Not like she'd admit that to Usui though.

As she was walking around, she began to think of Seika High's budget, the numbers of the sports festival to the numbers of the new locker room she was hoping to get built. There had been more students joining Seika recently—many more girls, much to Misaki's delight—and it seemed the amount of locker rooms they had weren't going to cut it. _Hopefully I can get it done before the end of the semester…_

A bell rang. Without any hesitation, Misaki turned towards the door and uttered a bright, "Welcome home, Master!" But she noticed something… odd about the customer. The man was average height, average weight, probably middle-aged… but his eyes were a dark brown, framed by a head of dreadlocks. He was wearing a pair of simple, though probably adequate glasses, and was in a cheap brown business suit.

All in all, he was not the normal customer that entered Maid Latte.

Noticing Misaki's staring, the man stepped forward. "Excuse me, miss?" He had a bit of an accent, Misaki noticed, and though his tone was worried, his gait was relaxed. "By any chance, do you think you could help me? My friend and I are lost—," he shoved his thumb in the direction of the door, "—and we aren't necessarily from around here. Do you think you could help us?"

Misaki blinked out of her stupor and gave the man a shaking, puzzled smile. "Um, s-sure. What exactly are you looking for?"

He rummaged around in his pocket—in every pocket, mind you—before he found a slip of paper and handed it to her. Misaki unfolded the note carefully, hoping that she could be of help to the man. She understood what it was like being lost and she knew it stank. Sucking in a deep breath, she opened the note and read the one line.

It was an address; a familiar address, one Misaki was sure she saw before… Realization dawned on her.

This address…

It was hers!

The man misinterpreted Misaki's silence and said, almost in a bored manner, "It's Ayakusa or Ayukuwa or something like that. Ever heard of it?"

Before Misaki could respond, she heard screaming. Whipping her head up like a bloodhound, she threw the note on the ground and ran towards the sounds of the noise, almost instantly recognizing the screams. But why would they…?

"With that logic, whatever happens is your fault, RIGHT?!" The scene that greeted her was weird—it was like something out of a manga. A tall young man with bleached hair, wearing a bartender's outfit—a bartender's outfit!—was chucking two of the three idiots like they weighed nothing at all. The last one screamed for her, clearly fearful, before he too joined his buddies on the pavement.

That was the last straw.

"What do you think you're doing?! THIS ISN'T A BOXING RING!"

The man turned around, shocked and surprised and somewhat angry, as he was greeted with the seething visage of Misaki. She had her hands balled into fists, her gaze deadly, and she was tempted to start showing this delinquent some manners, but she didn't. No matter how much she wanted to hit this bastard, she was still dressed as a maid and she was still working. She, along with Maid Latte, had a reputation to uphold.

Plus, not like she would tell anybody, but this guy had to be pretty strong to throw the three idiots like they didn't weigh anything at all. Not like she couldn't take him in a fight—she was positive she could take him—but she knew it would be hard or, worse yet, more detrimental to the store. No matter what happened, she refused to destroy Maid Latte.

The man still hadn't answered, but that was fine with Misaki. Stalking forward until she was almost nose to nose to the guy, she bellowed, "I don't know who you are, but this is a relaxing establishment! Just because someone runs into you doesn't give you the right to throw them through a wall! You understand how much that's going to cost?! Well?"

At Misaki's words, the man looked around, almost as if he wasn't aware he had caused any damage at all. An embarrassed, angry look came on his face, but when he spoke to Misaki his tone was surprisingly neutral. "Ehe… I might've gone a bit… overboard."

"Misa-chan! What on earth…?" Misaki froze on the spot. Shit shit SHIT! The manager was coming when half the store had been destroyed and Misaki had been yelling at a customer. She waited for the inevitable out lash of words that was sure to follow, but she heard nothing except for a shocked gasp. Turning around slowly, the only thing she noticed was that her manager, Satsuki, was falling to the earth. She had fainted and Misaki knew she was going to have a nasty crash unless she could get to her in time.

But there wasn't any time. Satsuki fell and Misaki had all the time to yell, "MANAGER!" She waited to hear a thud; but when none followed, she quickly glanced up. The man from earlier, the strange bespectacled man, was holding Satsuki by the waist, a look of annoyance on his face. Then, with a little effort on his part, he placed her gently on the ground, making sure she was comfortable. Misaki, along with the other maids, heaved a sigh of relief, but it didn't last long. The seemingly docile man made his way towards the brute and angrily gesticulated towards the mess. Though he didn't say anything, Misaki could tell the bartender was sorry—almost nervous—as he took out another cigarette.

The brunette sighed. "I'm so sorry about this… mess. My friend doesn't know how to control himself sometimes, but I assure you, we will fix this café. You have my word on that."

After a pointed glare from the smaller man, the blonde said between his cigarette, "Yeah, we'll clean it up. Sorry 'bout that."

Misaki opened her mouth to tell them that an apology wasn't okay, but she was stopped by a hand on her shoulder. Glaring back, she noticed Honoka and gulped when she realized that Honoka…

…had gone black.

"Now Misa-chan," Honoka cooed, though she was a fearful visage dressed in black, "they've apologized and are even offering to fix the store. Really, yelling at the customers…" she smirked, "… is quite wrong indeed."

Misaki nodded her head weakly, fear evident in the way her eyes were widened. She'd take on rapists, thieves, guys nearly triple her size—but when it came to Honoka, she was no match. Quickly turning around, Misaki bowed quickly and said, "I'm sorry for having been so rude!"

The man from earlier waved his hand. "It's no problem, really. You had every right to yell at Shizuo." He thought for a moment. "But we have to get going now. It seems nobody knows about that house—,"

Misaki remembered. "W-wait!" she cried out, grasping Tom's arm so he couldn't get away. "I actually know where that address is located…"

Tom raised an eyebrow, dubious. "You do?"

"Ah, yeah… you see… it's mine. _The house you're looking for is mine_."

XXX

**Stay tuned for chapter three! And remember to review!**

**About reviews…**

**To celeste31: Hope you enjoyed this chapter! And thanks for your review!**

**To alternativefuturefan27: Yes, Shizuo pissing off make for great parts of the anime, no? Though I must admit that I myself am an Izaya fan… But don't judge! I like Shizuo a lot too!**


	3. Chapter 3

**PART THREE**

-Kanra has entered the chat room-

-Taro Tanaka has entered the chat room-

_Kanra: 'Evenin Taro-chan~ _

**Taro Tanaka: Good evening, Kanra-san. You've been well?**

_Kanra: Ah, I've been wonderful! _

**Taro Tanaka: ?**

_Kanra: Hehe, you wouldn't understand, Taro-chan. I'm just so HAPPY—and it's not because of fatty tuna :D_

**Taro Tanaka: Then why…?**

_Kanra: Have you heard, Taro-chan? Apparently the fortissimo of Ikebukuro is going to be gone for a few days~ I hear lots of gangs that were scared of running into him are starting to come out again. Of course, that's just hearsay~_

**Taro Tanaka: Th-that… Are you sure? That sounds a little hard to swallow…**

_Kanra: Probably, Taro-chan. And as for being sure… well, we'll see in the next few days, hmm~?_

**Taro Tanaka: …You're not making me feel any better. I just hope nobody gets hurt…**

_Kanra: Well, I have to leave now. I'm tired, so I'm signing off. 'Night~_

**Taro Tanaka: Oh, night Kanra-san. Talk to you later!**

-Kanra has left the chat room-

**Taro Tanaka: I really hope you're wrong, Kanra-san…**

-Taro Tanaka has left the chat room-

XXX

"Your house?!"

Misaki cringed at how loud his voice had gotten. "Yes, my house. And don't yell; this isn't a playground."

Shizuo opened his mouth, most likely to say something full of expletives, but in the end he conceded with a new cigarette instead. "Then that makes you…"

She thrust her hand out, almost like a bear pawing for fish in a river. "Ayuzawa Misaki. I'm assuming you're Shizuo-nii, right? Mom wasn't very clear about you." And it was true; she'd been expecting some meek, mild, college-bound student, with glasses and black hair—the perfect Japanese man. He'd go to her house, make dinner for her and her sister, and pleasantly ask, "Misaki-chan, how has school been? Oh? You're the President? That's fantastic!" And he'd continue praising Misaki's best attributes, making her blush. He would be like the perfect big brother, a gentleman to all gentlemen—

"Misaki? You still in there?"

Misaki snapped out of her daydream as Shizuo waved a hand in her face. She resisted the urge to rip it off and committed to memory everything that this man wasn't like daydream Shizuo. He was loud, pugnacious, and had an even shorter temper than Misaki. He was wearing a bartender's outfit, which made him look ridiculous, almost like a cosplayer to some anime. And his hair…! It stomped on nearly every moral Misaki stood for, what with its shaggy appearance and its bright blonde locks, a sure sign it had been bleached. Bleached! If Shirotani couldn't get away with it, there's no way in hell she could let this man—her cousin, a bearer of Ayuzawa blood—get away with it either.

Seeing Misaki was still deep in thought, Satsuki pushed through the slowly disintegrating crowds of people. Rather, people were more than happy to oblige. They were all too worried for themselves to try and stop her. "U-um… Mr. Shizuo… Maybe it's best if you and Misa-chan go home and get settled in. T-there's not much you can do here anymore and… well, I don't mean to be rude, but you're scaring away the customers…"

Tom acquiesced. "She's right, Shizuo. Grab your cousin and let's go. I still have some work I need to do." Turning to Satsuki, he bowed. "I'm terribly sorry about your wall, Miss. But don't worry; Shizuo'll get it fixed before we leave and he'll do everything to make it up to you. Right, Shizuo?"

His voice brokered no arguments.

Shizuo snapped to attention. "Y-yes sir!" Satsuki smiled nervously at Shizuo then quickly turned her attention to Misaki.

"M-Misa-chan… you can go home if you like." At Misaki's dubious expression, the manager continued hurriedly, "We can cover your shift if that's what you're worried about. Plus," she leaned closer like she was confiding in Misaki, "he's scaring away all of our customers."

Misaki appeared to think it over for a moment, her nature to never give up conflicting with the fact that Shizuo was causing quite a scene, as nearly every man, woman, and teenager took it in with their cameras. The latter finally won out. She rubbed her head, exasperated. "You're right, Manager. I'm sorry for all of this."

"Oh!" Satsuki waved her hand like she was waving bad air away. "Don't worry about it! It was an accident, I'm sure—and we can always fix a wall! I wanted to do some redecorating anyways!"

The maids laughed nervously. Nobody had any heart to tell her that it wasn't just the broken wall. It was the fact that this boy—no, this man, this strange foreign man, had broken the wall with his bare hands, all because someone had_ knocked into him_. A complete accident, to be sure, but you tell that to the horrified crowds, the nearly destroyed Maid Latte, and the three semi-conscious boys on the concrete outside. Nobody that the maids had ever met had such strength, such a temper, such a fear among the people—

Wait. I take that back. There was one person they knew who fit that profile exactly. For sure, she wasn't nearly as dangerous as the blonde, nor was she quite so short-tempered, but all in all, Misaki was exactly the same as her cousin. The female version of Shizuo, if you so please.

These thoughts did not console them and they wondered, despairingly, how the next few days would fare. Things might not bode well for Maid Latte.

XXX

During this strange, somewhat comical escapade, a certain raven-haired man was watching the scene, trying desperately to reel in his laughter. But really! To think that Shizuo would—! And that his cousin would also—!

No longer able to hold it in, Izaya began to cackle. "HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA! HUMANS REALLY ARE ENTERTAINING!" A few people who had been walking down on the road glanced up, a little shocked to see a man laughing hysterically on the edge of a building, with a set of binoculars and the audacity to wear a fur parka right in the summer time. Izaya paid them no heed and continued to laugh, sure that his insides were going to burst. This was just too much!

After a few moments of gut-wrenching laughter, Izaya calmed down, though his body was still shaking slightly. It was great, wonderful—and also completely unexpected. To think that the brute's cousin, a seventeen year old girl and a student council president at that, was a maid—an honest to God maid! This girl, whose fiery temper was known throughout her school and whose hatred of men surpassed no other, was a maid! The thought made Izaya giddy and he, in an act of complete happiness, fell backwards on the roof, his feet dangling precariously over the edge. His humans were so amusing.

And then, it was even more wonderful when the brute—when Shizu-chan—actually went and attacked those three idiotic looking boys! Even though he hated the blonde with a searing passion only rivaled by the fires of hell, the truth was he never got bored watching him. He was too entertaining, too unpredictable, too damned fun to be even ignored for a second.

Hence the reason why Izaya was there at the moment. For it seemed his plan was—

"No, no, no! Listen hear, Miss Author Lady, you can't go giving away the driving plot behind the story! I won't allow it!"

—was something diabolical, something decidedly volatile—something that would, indefinitely, destroy the very man he hated. A secretive plan, something that would be known in due time.

"Ah, this is going to be so entertaining~" he cooed, his mocking auburn eyes taking in the hustle and bustle of the city. He scratched his chin a little, thoughful. "I'm a little bored though~ This town isn't nearly as interesting as Ikebukuro but…" he gave an indecipherable glance down to Misaki, "it sure has its quirks. That President being one of them. Hmm~ I wonder how I could make her dance with this information… Ah! No! Destroying Shizu-chan is more important! Though I would be curious as to her reaction…" Then a brilliant idea popped into his head. It was so simple, so utterly possible that Izaya wondered why he hadn't thought of it before. Smirking, he gave a perverse look towards Misaki.

"I guess it's time I introduce myself. Let's play a game, Misa-chan!"

XXX

"Suzuna, I'm home."

"Oh, Onee-san… you're home early. Did something happen?"

"Heh… about that…"

"What's wrong?"

"Why don't you come and see for yourself? I'm not really sure I'll be able to explain it."

Suzuna opened her mouth to reply, but decided against it. What was that supposed to mean? Suzuna couldn't remember the last time Misaki had been so… cryptic.

She sat up in bed, stretching her arms behind her head and hearing the familiar bones crack before she left, albeit unwillingly, to go see her sister. Really, what was so important that she had to leave her room—?

As she entered the living room, an almost unbelievable sight greeted her gaze. Towering well over her sister was a blonde-haired man, wearing tinted sunglasses and smoking a cigarette. His clothes were black and white, looking positively new, and were… butler's clothing? Why was he wearing butler's clothing?

Unfortunately, that wasn't even the strangest part. No, that had to be the fact that he was—with one hand, might I add—lifting their couch off the ground like it weighed absolutely nothing. Suzuna stared, not quite believing it, and turned towards Misaki. She, who had noticed the confusion etched across her features, gave nervous giggle before she pointed towards the corner of the room. The man nodded and, with a languid gait only possible for ballerinas, placed the couch in the designated corner.

Suzuna was still gaping. "Onee-san?"

"Hmm?"

"Who is…?"

"Oh." Misaki laughed a little again, something Suzuna noticed was harsh and grating. Malicious. "This is Shizuo. You know… our cousin." And the younger could swear she could hear bitter malice in her sister's voice, almost as if she was disgusted at such a cruel mockery. "He's going to be watching us for the next few days."

"….Oh."

XXX

Harsh breathing. The sound of running, running, he couldn't stop—no, the sight of blood, so much blood, the red everywhere and the smell—!

Suddenly a stop. No escape. Ragged breathes turned into harsh chokes. There was too much, too much—! If he didn't hurry soon, he was going to be dead. Dead. The word sent a thrill of terror through him, the adrenaline kicked up to high gear. No! It wasn't possible! He wasn't gonna die!

"Heh, so this is where you ran to." It was dark, so impossibly dark, too dark for even heaven. Hell dark. And the voice, that deceptively sweet voice, was so close, surrounding him from all sides, but yet, not close enough, nowhere near close enough. It was everywhere and nowhere, close and far, so incredibly dark. He realized then that he had a fear of the dark—

Deciding that such thoughts were not helping, the boy—he was no older than seventeen—cried out a shaky, "What do you want from me? I've never done anything to anybody, especially to you."_ A phantom_, he added silently. "Please, just leave me alone!"

Cruel laughter could be heard all around and it was then, in that split second of clarity, the boy realized he was surrounded. Alone, surrounded… and he was about to be killed like a dog. Or, at the very least, be begging to be killed like a dog. He had no doubt that his pursuers, whoever they were, would not kill him quickly. Slow death. That's all he had—a slow death. Death! He let out a small whimper and sunk to his knees, hoping that if he covered his ears, the voices would go away. Maybe they would grow bored and leave—no, he knew it was futile. He was going to die.

Suddenly, the laughter ceased, as if a switch had been turned off. "Just leave you alone? Don't be ridiculous! Why, after this trouble we went to get you, you should be grateful!" He heard the sound of something that sounded suspiciously like a crowbar hit the ground, almost like a whip at a circus. The sound was deafening—but whether that was because he was scared shitless or the alley accentuated it, he couldn't tell.

The voice from earlier spoke again. "This is why you don't play with the big guns, kid. Get involved with gang life, gang life has a habit of finding you." The guy's footsteps brought his voice closer and closer. "Right?"

"Please, just stop—"

"Or you'll what?" At that tone, the boy could imagine the phantom lifting his eyebrow. "Call the police? Fight me?" He snorted. "Or, will you call all your internet friends to come and get me, like you did to the Yellow Scarves?" The man _tsked_. "How pathetic. And here I was thinking that the Dollars were actually a threat."

The footsteps had gotten progressively louder, closer, closer, closer. The boy began rocking back and forth, his fear palpable, goose bumps on his skin, his eyes wide, crazed. "I'll do anything for you. I'll join your gang, I'll fight anybody you want me to—please! Just… don't kill me…"

His pleas fell on deaf ears. There was silence, only broken by the sounds of his own ragged breathes. Finally, after what seemed like an eternity, the boy heard the devil's voice right beside his ear. "I want you to know that what's about to happen is all because you belong to the Dollars. If you survive, give this message to your boss—Blue Square wants Heiwajima Shizuo, dead or alive. The longer it takes to get him means I can't guarantee your buddies will be safe~" He laughed, a psychotic chuckle that sent shivers down the boy's spine. He didn't even know who the leader was! How could he give him the message when he didn't even know his name?

"Please—!"

"Too late." And then his world went black.

XXX

-Aoi has entered the chat room-

_**Aoi: This is the end, Dollars. The end of your reign, your hold on our world… it's done. You take out the strongest knights, you're left with nothing but pawns. Pathetic, powerless pawns. And once we have Heiwajima Shizuo, you won't be able to stop us. We'll destroy the Dollars once and for all.**_

_**Aoi: …..**_

**_Aoi: And, well, if you're listening Dollars leader, just know that until we have Heiwajima Shizuo, we'll continue attacking your friends. I'd tread carefully if I were you_. _After all_, Blue Square is always watching.**

-Aoi has left the chat room-

XXX

**Phew! Another chapter under the belt! Slightly more fillerish that the others, but I needed to get all this technical shit out of the way before the actual story begins. And… well, I also am going to extend this story. I don't know how long it will be, but I hope you'll enjoy regardless. **

**And yay! I broke the fourth wall! Now, for a little challenge… Who can name 'Aoi'? I'll give you a few hints… he comes from the Durarara franchise, he wasn't in the anime, and he is definitely a real character. PM or review the answer if you know it. The first correct person will get to request ANYTHING to go in this story. Be it romance (all you Shizaya fangirls :3), horror, action, or comedy, I'll put it in. So please review!**

…**Right. You were gonna do that anyway. Heehee!**


	4. Chapter 4

**PART FOUR**

"Ah… Come to Russia Sushi! It good, it cheap!" A tall, rather imposing man said, his pure white chef's outfit contrasting starkly with his ebony skin. He waved fliers around, as if that would be enough to attract hordes of people to his restaurant. "Sushi good for you! Sushi best at Russia Sushi! Come to Russia Sushi!"

Though there were numerous people on the street, many steered clear of the salesman, often giving him strange looks as they passed as if he was some sort of ghost—not like that would be strange here, in this town. Point being, they were scared of him. For good reason too; though he seemed genial enough, most of Ikebukuro's residents knew about this man. Strong enough to fight on par with Shizuo Heiwajima! Once a spy for a secret militant Russian group! Danger with a smile! Of course, most of those were just rumors, but that didn't make anybody fear the towering brute any less.

"Simon!"

The man blinked his eyes, as though he found it strange that someone was calling him in the middle of the day, and glanced around. There, standing barely three feet away, was a blonde-haired, golden-eyed teenager wearing a rather ratty looking Raira uniform that had most definitely seen better days. Beside him was a young girl, most likely younger, with chin-length chestnut tresses and sharp, though friendly, hazel eyes. Simon recognized them almost instantly.

"Kida! Kida's friend! You come to Russia Sushi? It good—even give you half-off coupon." He smiled his best showman's smile, waving one of his fliers at the teen. "How about it?"

Masaomi laughed. "Eh, I don't have any money today, but tomorrow…" He gave the girl a sly glance, which she returned gratefully. "Maybe."

Simon knew that look all too well. He chuckled, a deep rumbling baritone that sent some of the closer pedestrians almost into a blind panic. "Ah~ young love. Russia Sushi good for romance! Good for making out!" At that, Kida felt his blush deepen ten times more, his neck become as hot as an inferno. The girl beside him laughed, then grasped his hand tighter as if saying, "It's okay to be embarrassed." Masaomi gave a little squeeze back, his happiness nearly palpable, before the sounds of shrieking ruined the happy moment.

"Ah, ah—I already told you, I don't have your money! P-please, just let me go!" The two teens glanced curiously over to the already bustling scene, somewhat interested at who would be starting a fight in the middle of the day. "P-please—!" But before the man could reiterate his pleas, the surrounding crowd heard a resonating snap, like a piece of chalk had fallen on the floor, as the man began howling in pain. Masaomi knew what was happening, but despite his friendly conversation with Simon, he was still lying low-key with Saki just in case any rouge Yellow Scarves members found him. He couldn't do anything, no matter how much he wanted to.

He didn't have to though.

As quickly as the bone had been broken, the Sushi chef made his way over to the carnage, people more than happy to let him pass. The assailant, some thin sinewy kid with long black hair and glasses covering beady chocolate eyes, had no idea that he was being watched. Grabbing the man until they were nose to nose, he screeched, "I already told you, you stupid fucker, that I don't want your fucking money." He smirked, something that looked a thousand times more sinister with his rat's face. "No, the reason that you're getting beat up is because of the Dollars—"

_Dollars?_ Masaomi thought, his momentary confusion causing him to drop Saki's hand. _What does he want with the Dollars?_ His eyes widened. This kid… he couldn't possibly be…

"Ah, fighting no good." The kid, who had until this time been shouting in the other guy's face, glanced up with scrunched eyebrows and a half-open mouth—a look of agitation to be sure—only to met with the amiable smile of Simon himself. Then, leaning closer as if to say a secret, his smile still disturbingly in place, Simon said, "Fighting no good, not at all. Russia Sushi use no human, but plenty others do." He grabbed the teenager, taking in the kid in one of his big burly hands and his smile, as if it were possible, seemed to get larger. "Ah~ fighting truly bad."

His eyes seemed to get a certain gleam in them, something dark but genial, almost like one of those scheming genies or even the one and only informant of Shinjuku himself. The punk, as we can no longer really call him a man or even a boy, stared up fearfully into the smiling eyes of death himself. Or at least, he did, before he went flying through the air, landing a good twenty feet away with a sickening thump, like someone had dropped a sack of potatoes on the ground. The flashes of cameras instantaneously followed, as though they'd received a cue from a director, but no one actually went to check on the poor punk who'd gotten beaten so mercilessly. Figures.

Simon smiled at the carnage and, as though he hadn't just permanently rearranged some kid's entire body, looked towards the cowering man, genial smile still present on his face. The man squeaked a little, his eyes wide and fearful, his skin colored an unnatural white. For once, the smile that had become so potent on Simon's face slipped off as he hesitantly reached out a hand. "You no need to fear. I come in peace." The hand fell on his forehead, a somewhat gentle gesture, as Simon rubbed soothing circles. "You come to Russia Sushi. You eat good sushi." Simon was really glad to be doing his good deed for the day. Maybe he could even become friends with this man.

Or maybe not. The poor man was about ready to piss himself as Simon continued to reassure him in some strange, unknown tongue that was like water to a thirsty man. The man couldn't take it anymore. "P-please…! I p-promise that I'll p-pay back my m-money so long as you don't kill me! J-just because I'm p-part of the Dollars doesn't mean—" He gulped and slapped a hand over his mouth. "I-I didn't mean it! I'm not part of the Dollars! I'm not! I promise!"

"So it's true." Masaomi nearly jumped at the hot breathe against his ear. He didn't freak out though, didn't react, didn't even flinch as Saki placed a comforting hand on his shoulder. "Masaomi." Her cute, low and seductive, almost playful voice reached his ears as her grip tightened on his shoulder. "Masaomi, please be careful. Don't push yourself." And then, without any pretense, she gave a quick butterfly kiss on his cheek before shoving him off into the slowly diminishing crowd.

Masaomi, quick and covert like some sort of special agent, made his way to the fallen, his congenial smile contrasting starkly with his dead eyes. Giving a quick nod at the kid, he waved his hand in greeting. "Yo."

The punk looked up at him, a dark kaleidoscope of colors painting his pale face, and spit at his feet. It landed right on his shoelaces and Masaomi resisted the urge to sigh. Really—and these were his favorite shoes too. Apparently Simon hadn't knocked any sense into the boy.

"The fuck do you want?!" the kid asked, fear showing in the slight quiver of his voice. "I don't have time for some blonde-haired pretty boy who doesn't know when to keep his nose out of people's damn business!" He took a shaky breath, as if he was losing steam but trying desperately to reclaim it. "Now just run home to your mommy, would you? I have important business to be taking care of and I don't have time to take care of some fucking brat—"

Masaomi pouted—or came as close to pouting as he could and still be… well, Masaomi. "Ah, that's no fun!" He placed his fingers on his temples and shook his head, like he was reprimanding a child. "But I see your point. I'll leave as soon as you answer one question for me."

"What?! Look kid, if you don't get lost, I swear to God—"

"Just one question," Masaomi urged. "I promise I'll be out of your hair after that." The guy looked like he was about ready to let out some very choice expletives before he simply sighed in defeat.

"Fine kid; what do you want to know?"

Masaomi smiled and giggled, not unlike a certain raven-haired informant who terrorized Ikebukuro. "What gang are you a part of?"

"Huh?! What the fuck are you talking about?! Why the hell should I tell you that?" It did not escape Masaomi's notice his lack of denial. "Get lost kid. Otherwise you'll be in a whole _mess _of hurt—"

His patience snapped. "Is that so?" He leaned forward until they were nose to nose—not hard, considering the other one was lying on the ground. "Well…" Suddenly, before the punk even knew what was going on, Masaomi was stepping on his arm, amiable smile gone like a breeze in the middle of winter.

"T-the fuck…!"

Masaomi shook his head and then, very slightly, applied even more pressure on the appendage. The guy cursed but that wasn't surprising; Masaomi knew that with any more pressure, he'd break the bone. Not like it would be a total loss. Maybe this guy would finally learn some manners then.

"Now I'll ask you again—what gang are you from?" His golden eyes were hard, no longer the blushing, shy boy from minutes before. "And I'd answer quickly if I were you. Not sure how much longer your arm's gonna last~" God, he sounded like Izaya. "So talk."

"F-f-f-f-fine! Fine I'll—ow, bastard!—I'll talk! I'll talk! I swear I'll talk!" Kida smiled, the light in his eyes returning, but the pressure on the other's arm did not let up. No need to be reckless. Or stupid, for that matter. He didn't know what this guy would do when placed in a corner. Probably lash out.

Stupid bastard.

"Go on~"

The guy looked up—almost behind him, as if he were admiring the sky—obviously looking for an escape. But who to fear? The leader of his gang, who would probably kill him later, or this stupid kid off the streets, who would probably hurt him a lot worse _now_? His survival instinct kicked in and without another thought, he chose the latter.

"B-Blue Square! I'm from Blue Square!"

XXX

-Aoi has entered the chat room-

**_Aoi: Hmm… seems that someone knows about my position in Ikebukuro. Or at least, the Blue Squares. Who did you think it was, Masaomi Kida? The Yellow Scarves? Please, don't make me laugh. That group's nothing now—actually, that group never was anything to begin with. But us—_my _gang—is one to be feared. We're going to be the ones to wipe out the Dollars and destroy Heiwajima Shizuo. Aha! Let's see how brave you are then, Masaomi Kida, when all of your bones are broken, when you're wallowing in your own blood, when we torture each and every one of your little friends in front of you. Let's see how powerful you are!_**

_**Aoi: …..**_

_**Aoi: And Heiwajima Shizuo… **_

_**Aoi: We're coming for you.**_

-Aoi has left the chat room-

XXX

"—saki. Misaki. Oi~ Misaki… wake up, Misaki…"

Bright sunlight. That was the first sight that greeted the sleeping brunette—its warm rays caressed her skin like it was promising her something fantastic, but the brightness was a plight to all humanity, specifically to one Ayuzawa Misaki. She felt a hand probe, something concrete against the sun's gentle light, and she swatted it away, annoyed. Couldn't they see she was trying to sleep? She didn't have to get up, not yet, it was Sunday—

Wait. Sunday was yesterday. Yesterday… Sunday was yesterday…

"Ahh!" She rolled out of bed, the shock that no, today wasn't Sunday, but rather Monday—and if she didn't hurry, she'd be late for school. Her! As the school president, she could not afford to be late. She would not allow it. Couldn't. Then she wouldn't hear the end of it from Usui.

She glared up at her cousin and felt fury creep into her voice. "Why the hell didn't you wake me up?!" She pushed him then, quickly, so quickly, as she ran to her dresser and pulled out her uniform and a fresh pair on underwear, completely forgetting about her cousin in the room. There wasn't any time to be modest!

Shizuo scowled, something she'd noticed was a trademark expression for him. "Why is it MY responsibility to wake you up? Wake your own damn self up!" Who did the hell did she think she was, yelling at him like it was his entire fault she couldn't wake up? He felt his hand twitch and he desperately felt the need to grab onto something large and solid. Probably her bed, if Misaki wasn't careful.

"That's not the point!" she shouted back, equally irate. "You knew what time school started and you knew what time I need to get up!" A thought struck her then. "W-wait… didn't my alarm go off this morning? I set it every morning and I don't see how it wouldn't go off—"

Shizuo, who'd been prepared to offer an angry retort of his own, snapped his mouth shut with an audible click. He looked towards her alarm—or, at least, what was left of it. She followed his gaze, confused, before she beheld the pile of screws and metal that had been her alarm clock.

"W-what…?! WHAT HAPPENED TO MY ALARM?!"

Shizuo felt his temple throb and he yelled back irritably, "I broke it, okay?! But you know, who wakes up at five in the morning for school anyways? That thing went off," he spat the word 'thing' like it was some sort of disease, "and… well, I got pissed, alright?! But that still doesn't mean you can blame me for not waking you up!"

A dead, almost suffocating silence filled the room and Shizuo shifted, uncomfortable. What was she thinking? Misaki was turned away from him, her back towards him, and he couldn't read her expression, couldn't even see her face. Was she angry? Seething? What was she?

Then, quite suddenly, Misaki reared around, hands on her hips and—if he focused correctly—devil horns sprouting from her head. He gulped as she pointed to the alarm and said, in a voice that sounded eerily like a demon's, "If you don't buy me a new alarm clock before I get home from school…" She left the threat hanging, but that was okay, because Shizuo understood the basic message. If he didn't get her a new alarm, he'd have hell to pay.

He gulped.

Seemingly satisfied, Misaki shoved him out of the room. "Now go! I still have to change and brush my teeth and I only have five minutes!" And before the blonde could protest, he was standing outside her room, the door slamming shut in his face as his cousin continued hurriedly getting ready for school, her irritation almost a palpable substance in the air.

He shrugged and, without another word, lit another cigarette.

XXX

Finally, FINALLY, after nearly five scrupulous minutes where Misaki thought she wouldn't make it, she'd finally gotten out of her house and now was walking—okay, more like running—to school. She had ten minutes to go but she knew, even on a good day it took at least twenty to get there. Deciding not to dwell on such depressing statistics, she pumped her legs faster and faster, all the while passing pedestrians on the sidewalk. She was able to avoid most of them but some, like the young Seika boy who was walking in the opposite direction of the school and was most likely ditching, gave her a dirty glare before continuing on his way.

Misaki didn't care though. She continued running until she was FINALLY able to see the school in the background. She was close—maybe five meters at most—and she could almost TASTE the marigolds blooming shamelessly by the entrance, the feeling of perspiration known to every school, the scent of fear as the boys waited for the Demon President's arrival—

And suddenly, just as quickly, she collided with something. Or someone, if the groan underneath her had anything to do with it. She fell backwards and landed, quite gracelessly, on her butt, her school books flying everywhere.

"O-ow!" She grimaced and rubbed her sore muscle, positive there would be a bruise tomorrow. "I-I'm so terribly sorry! I wasn't watching where I was going and I just—"

A guy laughed. "It's fine, really! I wasn't paying attention to where I was going either, so I guess we can call it even!" Quicker than Misaki thought possible, he jumped back onto his feet and handed her a few of the books he'd gathered. "Here you go."

Now that he was standing up, Misaki could see that the man was actually somewhat attractive. Not like she cared about those kinds of things, but still, she could admire someone like that when they came around. He was slim, first and foremost, but his entire body was endowed with lean muscles. He had dark, spiky black hair that contrasted almost entirely with the pale skin that covered his entire body, though it matched rather nicely with the black pants he was donning and the fur-trimmed sweatshirt. _Odd,_ Misaki thought. _It's too hot for something like that…_

But the strangest, it seemed, was his red eyes, the color something she had never seen on a regular person before, much less a Japanese man. Strange indeed.

Then she remembered. "Ah—!" She glanced down at her clock and noticed she had three minutes to spare. "I have to go now! Please, if you'll excuse me—!"

The guy laughed and stepped in front of the panicking girl. A red alert went off in Misaki's head and she turned her flustered forgetfulness into a heated glare. The man, much to her chagrin however, simply laughed condescendingly. "You really are the brute's cousin."

"Huh? L-look, I have to go, so if you can just get out of my way—"

"Eh~? But that's no fun, Misa-chan!" Misaki's eyes widened. How did he…? Before she could ponder this further, he laughed like a small child and held up a picture that Misaki knew could ruin her life. Because standing there…

As her confused expression turned into one of anger, she lashed out, intending on stealing the offending picture away from this creepy man. But the man, with more grace than even Misaki, leaped just out of reach and chuckled at her murderous expression. "Ooh~ So scary! Is this the infamous Demon President that I've heard about, hmm~? Ah, so scary!" But his tone had taken on a rather dark undertone, like he'd found an annoying pest on his shoe. "But see… you're not scary enough." And before Misaki could even blink, she felt the man slip behind her, his arm resting precariously on her upperarm, the stabbing pressure of metal against her neck.

"Let's talk, Misa-chan~"

XXX

…**I'm starting to think there should be a warning for Izaya in a chapter. He's just… ugh, he can be quite strange, but he's still one of my favorite characters. Hmm~ **

**But anyways, I hope you enjoyed this chapter and I can't wait to write the next one! Misaki and Izaya will talk, Usui and Shizuo will meet, and Aoi will still be revealed! That contest is still going, FYI (check chapter 3 if you want more information) so if you know the answer, come on down! You could very well win a new car!**

**(Note: You will not actually win a new car for completing this challenge.)**


	5. Chapter 5

**PART FIVE **

"Ne, Shizuko…" A young, blond-haired girl with shockingly light amethyst eyes glanced up uneasily at her friend. She was clutching a pencil in her hand and twirling it around—a nervous habit, she supposed—as she fretfully awaited the answer that was sure not to quell her charging heart. Or, maybe it would, but she'd felt so uneasy this entire morning—

"What is it?" Shizuko said, her common no-nonsense tone telling Sakura that whatever question she asked, it had better be important. Sakura hummed a little at that tone and, like a small bird, placed her forefinger against her chin, as if in deep thought. Finally, her mouthed quirked quickly into a small smile before she grinned shamelessly at the other.

"Well, you know how Misaki-chan's been hanging out with Usui-kun a lot, right?"

Shizuko quirked her brow, but decided against the scathing comment that was sure to follow. "Yeah?"

"Well," Sakura blushed slightly as she wiggled her fingers together nervously in front of her. Which, Shizuko supposed, was almost like she was looking for the answer in that gesture. "Um… do you think that it's possible that they're taking the day off together?"

"Huh?"

Sakura, if it was possible, blushed even harder. "I-I mean… Misaki-chan likes Usui-kun, right? So, I mean, it wouldn't be totally impossible for them to take the day off together and spend it like lovebirds…"

Before the nonsense could continue, Shizuko put her hand up. "I'm sorry, but WHAT are you talking about? Are you worried because Misaki-chan wasn't in school today?"

"Eh? You knew about that?" Sakura's eyes widened to nearly twice their size before the embarrassed smile fell from her lips into a frown. She seemed to shrink in on herself, pulling her legs together and squishing her hands in a mock prayer, like she was sending her best intentions Misaki's way. "I'm just worried, I guess. It's not like Misaki to miss a day of school." She laughed suddenly. "Not even when she's sick."

Shizuko allowed herself a small smile at the truth in that statement. "Yeah, well—Misaki-chan knows her limits. If she was too sick to come to school, then she just wouldn't come." At Sakura's still disbelieving face, Shizuko sighed. "I'm sure she's fine, Sakura-chan. Remember, Misaki-chan can take care of herself. There's nothing to worry about."

"I know, Shizuko, but I can't help thinking that maybe something's wrong. Call it a gut feeling or whatever, but I think Misaki-chan's in danger." She wriggled her fingers together. "Or rather, I _know_ she's in danger…"

Before Shizuko could say anything else, the bell rang, signally the beginning of class. Inconspicuously, so as not to draw attention, Shizuko mouthed the words, _She's fine_. The nervousness left from the younger's body and she quickly smiled at the brunette. Shizuko smiled back, like a mother to her child, before she turned her attention to the teacher at the front of the class.

And, though Sakura seemed to be in higher spirits, Shizuko couldn't help feeling the same exact sense of worry for the hot-headed brunette. Misaki could be trouble, especially when there was a man involved, and she was volatile and hot-headed to boot. If she got into a fight before school started…

But no. Misaki wouldn't have. She was, first and foremost, the President of Seika High. She wouldn't shirk that responsibility for anything, not even some hot-headed argument or inane guy she met on the way to school. She was stronger than that.

That was the part that was worrying her, she supposed. Because she knew in her gut that Misaki wouldn't do that. Something was wrong. Something was happening to Misaki. Something bad.

Apparently, a blonde-haired, perverted space alien eavesdropping at the door thought the exact same thing.

XXX

"Ooo~ So pretty! Look at that chess shop! Why if I knew how to play chess… And all the humans here! Humans I've never even seen, never heard, never even played with, all walking around just asking for the taking!" The man sighed in content. "Hmm~ I think… I'm in heaven…"

Misaki gave a wayward glance to her companion, a slight frown evident on her face; though much to her credit, she didn't say anything. There was nothing she could say anyways; all this talk about how 'pretty' or how 'lovely all the humans were' was giving her a headache. What the hell was this man on? Was he drunk? Or, she shuddered slightly, was he mentally unstable? That could explain his unhealthy obsession with the hordes of strangers almost parting for the eccentric raven or the fact that he was holding not only a picture that could ruin Misaki's life (at least to her) but he also had threatened her with a switchblade. Seriously? A switchblade? The things were too small to be of any _real_ use in a fight and when possibly fighting with an inhumanly strong girl by the name of Misaki, well, there was absolutely no way someone could win. Someone had to be completely nuts to use that against Misaki. However…

This man was different—almost like Igarashi Tora, Misaki mused, the way he greedily grasped for things and people like a little kid, the way he was able to overpower the Seika President quickly (not like Misaki would admit that…), and the way he showed contempt for the people who didn't interest him. Or undying interest for the ones who did. Were they related, Misaki wondered belatedly? Well, it wouldn't be impossible after all… after all, she and her cousin were total polar opposites, yet they shared similar blood. If Misaki was being completely honest with herself, nothing would surprise her anymore. Not even if this man happened to be involved with the Yakuza or even knew about supernatural forces.

But this man… he was insane, crazy, and had very little understanding of the term 'personal space.' Besides the fact that he'd blatantly invaded Misaki's space by threatening her with a switchblade, he'd also attempted—numerous times, may she remind you—to grasp Misaki's… well, anything. Be it her hand, her upper arm, her lower arm, even her shoulder, this guy did not know when to quit! If Misaki hadn't been so shaken from their previous encounter, she would've broken his fingers so hard that his parents would've felt it. A strange thought occurred to her. Did this guy _have_ parents? Did he have any family? If he didn't, that was fine, as if would explain his touchy-feely personality that clashed severely with Misaki's own. But if he did—

Misaki's musings were interrupted by the eager voice of her companion. "We're here, Misa-chan~" And, though he was smiling, Misaki felt an intense wave of fear simmer down her spine—almost like her subconscious knew he was trouble and was warning her to get the hell away. Gathering all her courage, she glanced up to the building they had reached, only to realize that she didn't recognize it at all. It was nondescript, with a monotonous gray that all but reflected the sun and numerous windows that aligned up the side of the building like some sort of offering. The only obscene, or even remotely remarkable thing about this building, was that it towered over nearly all the others in the vicinity, like some self-righteous ass that didn't know when to quit. Covertly, her eyes flickered over to her smiling companion, and Misaki had to bite her lip to prevent a laugh from escaping. Well, if the shoe fits…

Without waiting for Misaki's answer, he skipped on ahead like a tiny child in a toy store and waltzed into the building, almost like he owned it. Which, for all intensive purposes, he did. He gave Misaki a mocking glance back, almost daring her to follow him, before he gleefully held up the picture that could crush her very soul. "I'll be waiting inside, Misa-chan~! Unless, of course, you don't want this…"

Misaki laughing mood dissipated as he said this and she straightened her posture, a glare etched on her pretty face. Resisting the urge to just run up and beat the shit out of the man with everything she had, she took a shaky breath and began walking towards the gigantic building. The man smirked, like a hyena about to devour its prey, and—with more grace than a ballerina—skipped through the main lobby, leaving Misaki to run after the skipping informant so as not to lose him. He made a quick left—through a door marked 'Staircase'—and quickly ascended the steps three at a time, sometimes livening it up with his parkour or adjusting his speed. Misaki breathed heavily as she continued running after the frolicking man. Seriously, what was with him?! He had to be on something.

Izaya, on the other hand, just continued laughing and laughing as the girl attempted to keep up with him. In a way, this reminded him of the precious fights him and Shizu-chan had in Ikebukuro—the only difference, he supposed, was that Misaki wasn't trying to beat him into an inch of his life. But still…! That grace, that barely concealed anger, those fierce eyes that promised a sweet and timely revenge on his lithe body—! It was just too much! Why, he should've done this ages ago!

But alas, all fun must come to an end boys and girls. Stopping at door marked ostentatiously with the number '21', he gave Misaki one last mocking salute before he pushed his way through. Misaki resisted the reprehensible urge to flip him off and warily followed through the single door, surveying the surrounding area suspiciously as if Satan himself was waiting beyond. What would be behind it? A group of thugs, ready to take the President at the click of the clock? She doubted that, as this man—who, she realized, had yet to tell her his name—seemed so confident in his own abilities that he probably felt it was unnecessary to hire so much extra help. Possibly a hit man? But if he wanted to kill her, wouldn't he have just killed her when he had her cornered on her way to school? Somehow she doubted that. Not only was it broad daylight, he seemed to enjoy the chase just as much as Misaki hated it. There's no way he would kill her, at least, not yet—

The door opened.

Misaki stared at the doorway, confusion evident in her face as, no, she wasn't met with the sight of a firing squad or even anything remotely suspicious; rather, she was staring into a brightly lit room, with elegant wood furnishings adorning the sides and the wisp of a violin as it wafted through the air. The diners, Misaki realized, were dressed in elegant clothing—beautiful, bounteous cloths made of baby blues, majestic lavenders, and daring yellows—that made Misaki feel severely out of place in her cheap, almost puke-green school uniform and battered bag she had bought nearly five years ago at a yard sale. This place was ritzy, no doubt about it.

Okay. He was _definitely_ related to Tora.

"Oh, Misaki-chan! I'm over here!" Misaki turned her attention away from the numerous diners that were studiously ignoring her and was met with the raven-haired man, energetically waving his arms in a midnight black suit. Some of the diners—ones whose eyes were puckered at the edged like they sucked on a sour lemon—gave him a dirty glare so fierce that Misaki even felt it.

He didn't seem to mind though. If anything, he seemed to wallow in the attention, finding it all the more humorous that he was disrupting what was considered a 'relaxing establishment.' Feeling embarrassed for the man, she quickly made her way over, all the while seeming to wilt in the glares of the patrons—some of whom she thought she heard mutter, "_She's a Seika student_." Filled with the new challenge of trying to idolize her school, she pulled her shoulders back and eased her face into one of neutrality. If these snobby bastards were going to judge Seika based on her, she was going to give them a damned good impression.

"H-hey there," she greeted awkwardly, pasting on her face the cheesiest smile in the history of cheesy smiles. "H-have you waited long?" She had to uphold her reputation. Plus, not like she'd tell anybody this, but she didn't know what this man would do when provoked, so she was going to play it safe. For now. "I got a little lost on the way up here…"

Izaya draped an arm around her shoulder like they were old friends. Misaki had to resist the urge to puke. "It's okay, Misaki-chan. After all, I just got here too. Ah~" He pulled at her hair like a young girl would a doll. "What's this?! Misa-chan, you didn't dress up!" He clicked his tongue in annoyance and leaned his head in closer, his breath tickling her ear. "Of course, I could just undress you once we get to a more private setting…"

Misaki felt a crimson blush erupt on her skin along with a nerve twitch. "D-don't say that, you bast—h-honey!" She had no idea what to call him but since he seemed dead set on them pretending to be lovers, that seemed like the safest bet. The diners, once they realized that they were simply two young lovers going out on a date, turned back to their meals and continued the conversation with their own parties, completely losing interest in the smiling man and the severely underdressed girl in a Seika uniform.

Cheesy smile still in place, Misaki allowed herself to be led to a set of double doors, equally as pristine as the surrounding area. The only difference was these doors were guarded by two imposing men by the names of Jin and Jun, two mirror copies of the other, who guarded the door like a religious man would guard a relic. They quirked an eye at Izaya, but after he quickly muttered something in a language Misaki did not know, they both imperceptibly nodded and stepped aside, letting the two dark-haired people inside. As soon as Misaki was out of the confining dining hall, she took a deep breath and glared at the man beside her, all senses of formality forgotten.

Misaki opened her mouth, but was stopped short as Izaya placed a warning finger on her lips. "Now, now~ We'll talk in due time, Misa-chan." Her glare intensified at the use of such an obscene nickname. "First, you change."

"I'm sorry?"

Izaya rubbed a hand over his face, almost like he was exasperated with having this conversation at all, and grabbed Misaki's cheeks. "I said, 'You change.' I'm not going to eat with someone who's dressed so…" He crinkled his nose. "Poorly."

A feral growl escaped Misaki's throat at the 'poor' comment, which caused Izaya to laugh. This man… he was reprehensible! Truly, a jerk among jerks, an ass of asses… Where did he get off, telling her what to do?! Honestly!

"I don't see why it matters if I change—"

Izaya gave her a cheeky grin. "Because it does, Misa-chan. Now go along." He waved to another door located a little behind him, his hand haphazard and careless. "I'll be waiting at our table till you're done." And with that, he began to walk away.

"W-Wait!" the young President cried, grabbing on to his retreating sleeve as she did. "I'm only going to change if you tell me your name."

At that, Izaya didn't just smirk, nor did he laugh; he full out _giggled_. Which, in all honesty, made Misaki feel more uneasy than she already was. Then, like the gentleman she knew he wasn't, he placed a slim finger against his lips, like he was telling her a secret.

"The name's Orihara Izaya. But you, dear cousin of the brute, can call me Izaya-kun."

XXX

_Meanwhile, in the dining room…_

"U-um, sir… wasn't that… Ayuzawa Misaki…?"

"Hmm?" A pair of feline golden eyes crinkled in amusement as he took a deep chug of ruby red wine, his tiny fangs poking out in his sinister smile. "Ayuzawa Misaki? Why would she be here?"

"U-Um, well…" Maki crinkled his brow as he stared at the doors at the far end of the room. "I'm not entirely positive, but I thought I saw her go in there with raven-haired man a moment ago…"

Tora snorted. "I highly doubt that. There's no way that woman would go anywhere without that blonde-haired idiot, Usui Takumi." He made a slight coughing noise in the back of his throat. "Really Maki, is this how the future owner of the Maki Dining Group should be acting? If that's the case, I'm fearful for the future of that company."

Maki felt a slight blush of shame grace his cheeks, but he knew better than to argue back with his President. "O-Of course, sir; it was my mistake." But he had definitely seen her. That woman was hard to miss, especially in her Seika uniform and the very unladylike way she carried herself in a dining hall. She was stomping so loudly that Maki was surprised that she hadn't woken up half of Japan. But then, the woman had been greeted by him with a hug and he knew that woman wouldn't take such a blatant approach in public without some sort of denial. Or at least, that's what President Igarashi told him.

He sighed. Maybe it was nothing after all… There's no way that she would be here, in all likelihood. That woman took her work very seriously, so to go gallivanting around with some raven-haired man at a high class restaurant—

Suddenly, Maki's fox eyes widened and he began coughing on his wine, hitting his chest to dislodge the offending object from his windpipe. Well, for once in his life, it looked like Tora Igarashi was wrong. Because standing right there…

"Yo," a lazy voice said, his stunning green eyes popping out against his satin grey tux. "So—where did you say Kaichou went?" The clatter of silverware was heard as a shell shocked Tora and Maki glanced up at the blonde boy.

"Usui Takumi!"

XXX

**Hmm… So I've been off for the past week or so, but I didn't put my ass into writing this chapter until yesterday. One o'clock in the morning yesterday, to be exact. However, the words flowed and before I knew it, almost the entire chapter was taken up with Misaki's thoughts on Izaya and it would've been too long to continue as it was. Plus, I realized that Usui has barely made any cameos in this fic so…**

**But yes! I hope you enjoyed this chapter as much as I enjoyed writing it! Sorry it took so long to update, but I hope you enjoyed it! Next up, Izaya's plan is finally revealed and Usui meets the infamous informant. Stay tuned!**

**(P.S.—If you thought that Izaya or Misaki were OOC, there's a reason for that… You have no need to worry ;))**

**And as always, review! Thank you!**


	6. Chapter 6

**PART SIX**

What. The. Fuck.

Seriously! This guy… and here she thought Usui was bad…

Growling something reminiscent of a rabid dog, she angrily grabbed the offending hanger and slammed it down on the rack, satisfied when it made a squeal of protest. Soon the euphoria left and she, the scapegoat, felt vile rise at the back of her throat.

This god awful fucking _dress_… Had he no shame? Really, Misaki wore a maid costume at her work, for Chrissakes, and she'd even had to play maid with that womanizing Tora! But this dress… though it wasn't as tacky as a maid costume, it was still repugnant, the lowest of the low. It was a slinky black number, silky in its feel, that plunged so low even Misaki's nonexistent breasts looked exaggerated. The back wasn't much better; it formed a nearly perfect peak towards the small of her back, exposing the rest of the creamy skin there. And, to top it all off, Misaki was wearing heels. Heels! Similar to the dress, they were a black so dark they looked like a starless night on the countryside. Besides the coloring, the heels were almost a good five inches in length, causing her to stumble and sway as she stood there trembling in her fit of rage. She supposed though, that if this guy did try anything, these heels would be a good way to bash his skull in…

_Don't think like that_, Misaki scolded. _Just get through this… lunch and get that picture back._ Resolve renewed, she clapped her hands together before she exited the tiny dressing room to find that absurd man. As she exited the room, she saw a young woman, probably no older than twenty-five, standing outside the door with a scowl on her face, her foot resting precariously against the doorframe. At the rustle of the knob, she turned her head and acknowledged the young girl. "I see you had no trouble putting your dress on. Good. Orihara is this way."

Without bothering to see if Misaki was bothering to follow or not, she abruptly spun on her heel and began to skulk away, her pinwheel heels echoing eerily in the empty corridor. Misaki gave a startled glance back to the dressing room, thinking, _Was she there before? How the hell did I miss her?_

"U-um, excuse me," Misaki said, her chocolate brown eyes creasing at the seams. "Who are you?"

The woman gave a bored glance back, her one eyebrow raised far too high to be comfortable, though she hardly slowed her pace. "My name is Yagiri Namie." The bored look transfigured into one of anger. "I am Orihara Izaya's personal assistant." At that admission, her lower lip was assaulted savagely by her teeth—strong enough to draw blood—and her eyes seemed to become like a serpent's, strong and volatile and ready to strike. Finally, she released her bloody lip and turned her attention back to Misaki. Her tone turned condescending. "You can call me Yagiri-san."

"O-Okay…" _Wait… where have I heard the name 'Yagiri' before_? "Then, Yagiri-san… what can you tell me about your boss—er, Orihara-san?"

Namie glanced back, no longer with a look of indifference, but her mouth was quirked at the side and her eyes were sparkling. "Why don't you just ask him yourself?"

Before Misaki could ask her what she meant, she realized that they had reached another door, so extraordinarily similar to the dressing room it was a miracle they hadn't gotten lost. She gave an uneasy look towards Namie, but she simply shook her head in exasperation. Namie knocked—louder than what was probably necessary and just as obnoxious too—and yelled out, "Orihara! Here's your damned prostitute! Come out and get her so I can go home!"

"Wait, I'm not a prostitute—"

Namie didn't even seem to hear her. She growled in annoyance and banged on the door even harder. "I'm leaving! I can't believe you have me here on Seiji's birthday, of all days! Play your stupid games on your own time!"

"U-um, Yagiri-san, are you sure he's in there…?"

Namie turned her murderous aura towards the young Seika president, her eyes shining like death itself. She looked ready to strike and Misaki—vaguely—had a bad feeling that Namie wouldn't feel any remorse about attacking her and using her skin as a new carpet.

Misaki sucked in a deep gulp. Even demons are scared of some things, she supposed.

So it was a little surprising when Namie seemed to draw in on her reserves of patience and—though it was terrifying—gave Misaki the brightest smile the younger girl had ever seen. "Oh, I'm positive. You'll be able to fuck him soon enough to your heart's content." And then she returned to banging on the door, leaving a gaping Misaki in her wake. What the hell had he TOLD her?! Misaki was no prostitute!

Finally, FINALLY, after a few more minutes of raucous pounding, the doorknob twisted slightly before Misaki and Namie were greeted with the visage of the one and only Orihara Izaya. He smiled benevolently and, with the practiced grace of a thousand gentlemen, took Misaki's hand in his own. He conveniently ignored glares from both president and assistant alike. "Oh, Namie-chan~" Misaki noticed that Namie was gritting her teeth, but much to her credit, didn't reply. "I'm glad you found me~ I was worried that you'd gotten lost~" And then, without any warning, he grabbed Misaki's hand and pulled her in the room with him, his grotesquely misleading smile still in place.

She wanted to hit him so hard. But she refrained, in case Namie actually was the loyal type and decided to intervene.

That probably wasn't going to happen with the glare Namie was sending him. In fact, in all honesty, she looked as though she would help Misaki hide the body if anybody ever asked and not even bat an eyelash. She looked ready to skin him alive, deceiving smile and all. Surprisingly, she did no such thing—instead, she smiled, her mouth arched in what was probably the scariest expression of fake compassion Misaki had ever seen. "No, we found it just fine. Now if you'll excuse me, I have a birthday party to go to."

"Hmm?" Izaya cocked an eyebrow, his expression devilishly innocuous. "Oh, you mean for Seiji-kun's birthday? Well, I don't know if I told you but…" He smiled a shark's grin—menacing and sharp and devious all at once. "Seiji-kun called my apartment and said that the party was moved to earlier this morning. He said something about Mika-san not feeling well last night, so he wanted to take her to the hospital as soon as possible. He had a quick ceremony this morning and then, they both went to the hospital." He laughed as Namie's mouth fell open, the shock all too clear on her face—though, Misaki mused, she wasn't exactly sure why. If she truly was Izaya's assistant, wouldn't she have been… expecting something like this?

Apparently not. "Y-you mean… that Seiji's birthday party… already happened?"

Izaya gave a look of sympathy—probably fake, Misaki noted—and said, "Oh, don't be so sad Namie-chan! I had thought that I'd already told you but I guess that wasn't the case… Still," he laughed, his tone condescending, "you got to come with me to meet this lovely young lady! Isn't that so much better than a stinking birthday party—"

Before he had a chance to finish, a fist shot out like a bat out of hell, and almost—only precious millimeters apart—connected with his face. Had he not moved as quickly as he did, he would've surely been hit.

"You slimy bastard…!" she hissed, the fake congeniality gone like a breeze in the wind, her eyes promising just what kind of slow and painful death Izaya would experience. "You damned psychopath! You knew how much I wanted to see Seiji, so why…?" A thought seemed to come to her, quick and unassuming in its nature, and she furrowed her brows together, though she was far from calming down. "I'm not going to ask why. I know why, you damned troll. And it will probably make me angry. So, I'm not going to ask why."

Izaya looked highly amused, not cowering in fear from the death glare he was receiving, and Misaki wondered if this was normal between the two. She supposed anything could be normal with this man. "My, my Namie-chan~ That's an… adult way to look at this."

"Oh, don't get me wrong," she said, cracking her fists in a mockery of a Tarantino movie. "I didn't say I wasn't going to kill you, you STUPID ARROGANT ASSHOLE—"

Namie's incessant rants were effectively cut off as the sound of a lock sliding into place became all too prominent. During Namie's angry promises of a painful death, Izaya had grabbed Misaki and pulled her into the room, locking out Namie with a quick flick of his wrist. Like an angered lion, she gave a howl of indignant protest and started thrusting her weight against the door, the wood bending and twirling under the excess weight like a bus on a decrepit bridge. That was it though and soon, the thumps became less and less frequent. Giving a final shriek of rage, Misaki heard the unmistakable _click-clack_ as two feet spun on their heels, striking the door with enough force to leave a dent. Soon the noise dissipated and Misaki was, unfortunately, actually and positively alone with this creep. Maybe she could escape…? Oh, but, she wasn't being held here against her will—she was here for that damned picture, nothing more. Not that nagging sense of curiosity that swirled deep within her stomach…

Shaking her head, she turned around and was surprised to notice the room was actually… pleasant. Not elegant, no way in hell (though that didn't stop her from gaping at the expensive china littering the dining table like some sort of covenant), but it was nice. Like a cute little boutique at a café in Paris. And the food! There was so much of it, impossibly too much for it all to be eaten by the two brunettes, spread out like some sort of sacrifice to a deity. Roasted chicken, mashed potatoes, the greenest salad she'd ever seen, some misplaced ootoro… Her mouth watered at the sight, enough to make anyone frenzied. She'd never seen food like this before, much less eaten any!

"Misa-chan?" Misaki's mouth automatically snapped shut, the reaction quick and involuntary, as her signature glare graced her features. Izaya, on the other hand, was simply smirking, his hands hovering over a chair like the mockery of a gentleman he was. He was looking far too cocky, acting all high and mighty as though Misaki was some sort of prize he'd won, or like a huge elk he'd taken down on his last hunting trip.

"Yes, Orihara-san?" She didn't miss the way his face darkened at her blatant attempts to get under his skin, though far too quickly, a smirk was gracing his lips again. Did the bastard think this was FUNNY?

"Well, I was just wondering if you were going to sit down… After all, standing the way you are is giving me quite a view of your—" She slammed a hand against his mouth, effectively cutting off whatever drivel he felt necessary to sprout at her, a scarlet blush painting her cheeks endearingly. Damn it! She was not going to blush at something he said! She refused to! She would damned well put her reputation as the President of Seika High on the line before she ever succumbed to this man!

As two bemused red eyes met her own, she quickly retracted her hand like she was touching burning lava, and sputtered out an indignant, "All right, all right! I get it! Geesh! You don't have to tell me twice!" Hoping her face didn't look as hot as it felt, she pulled the chair out with an air of ire, sitting down and crossing her arms over her chest as though she was a cow being led to the slaughter. Izaya quirked a brow, but decided not to comment and pulled his own chair to sit down, cheesy smile plastered ever on his face. Two red eyes stared at her curiously, the look perfectly harmless, which only annoyed Misaki more. "W-what?"

Deciding not to answer, Izaya stood up, knocking over his chair in the process. He stalked around the table, his movements quick and languid—but with an air of sensuality—before he towered over the suspicious female president like a Red Wood in California. Misaki resisted the urge to back up, refusing to give this creep any satisfaction, her gaze fierce and determined. Ignoring the two hands that were (again) invading her personal space, she hardly backed down—in fact, she seemed to get more determined as the minutes ticked by. Feeling a sudden rush of adrenaline, she spat out, "Alright, Orihara-san. Are you ready to give me back that picture?"

Izaya dramatically threw his hand over his face, the strange moment broken with the slip of her tongue. "Why would I do that, Misa-chan~? Aren't you having as much fun as I am?"

"No."

He gave her a quirk of his eyebrow, his red eyes boring into her own. "Is that so?" Turning around, he retreated to his side of the table—Misaki had to physically bite her lower lip to keep from breathing a sigh of relief—while waving a thin, alabaster hand at her, as though he was clearing away bad air. Languidly, with no care in the world, he sat down at the opposing end, watching Misaki intently like a scientist would a newly discovered species. After a couple of minutes of obscene silence, Izaya said, that same menacing smile on his lips, "You know, I'm starting to wonder how intelligent you actually are. I mean, don't you want to know what I'm doing here? Or better yet, why I have a _picture_ of you, when we've never even met?"

She stared blankly.

He frowned. "Huh, I was hoping this would be far more entertaining. Even playing with Shizu-chan is way more fun…"

"Huh? 'Shizu-chan?'"

Izaya smirked, a thought slowly forming on the precipice of his subconscious. "Shizu-chan… you know, your cousin." He almost laughed as her eyes widened comically, her brain connecting two and two to get the one and only Heiwajima Shizuo.

Misaki felt a deep feeling of dread creep into her gut, though she didn't know why. "W-what do you want with Shizuo-nii?" She gave him a strange look, full of distrust and disgust and self-loathing for ever considering playing his game. Seeing he wasn't going to answer, she said, "So what, you're not going to tell me? After all the trouble you caused me today?" And though Misaki's tone was light, flippant even, there was an undercurrent of fear that caused her voice to shake. Still, Izaya had to admit, that she was holding her ground pretty well, especially since _**he**_ was her opponent.

_Now that's what I'm talking about_, he mused, the corners of his mouth twitching slightly. _Here's where the fun really starts._

"Of course, Misa-chan~!" he cooed, the smile on his face appearing as if it was splitting it in half. "Why, I'm simply looking out for you and your family—"

Misaki snorted. "Looking out for me? You call blackmailing me and holding me at knife point _looking out _for me?" She was incredulous. Never, and I do mean ever, had she met such an egotistical, annoying man. Even Usui wasn't this bad. "Please elaborate this help you've been oh so gracious to give. I'm _dying_ to know—"

Suddenly, before Misaki could even blink, a knife had shot out from the opposing side, missing her head by mere inches, embedding itself in the wood. If it had been just a little closer… She slowly felt the blood drain from her face, her mouth opened in mid-sentence, her body slightly shaking. No, my dear readers and consorts, she was not afraid or even remotely scared. As the seconds ticked by—precious, precious seconds—she felt a deep swell of anger settle in her gut, the urge to rip and destroy this ostentatious man growing stronger by the second. With visible effort, she calmed herself, though she swore that if she saw one more knife she was going to forsake her self control and all hell was going to break loose.

Izaya smiled as though he'd taught a pet some new tricks. "Honestly Misa-chan, your temper is going to get you into some real trouble someday." He easily dodged the plate that was thrown at him. "Now, now… I am helping your family. You're just making assumptions before you even get to know me." He placed his head in his hands, smile blooming on his face, as he said, "Ah, this really is difficult. Shizu-chan might be a monster, but at least he has more brain cells than _**some**_ people—"

Misaki felt that small amount of self-control slip dangerously low. "Look, Orihara-san…" She was hoping that the use of his surname would make him wipe that annoying smile off his face, but to no avail. If anything, he seemed to look even more amused. It pissed her off. "If you're just going to waste my time, then I'm taking that picture and heading home. I don't need to sit here and be insulted."

"Ah~" Izaya graced her with a glance, a perpetually bored grin on his face. It was alarming how fast he could go from being amused to being disturbing. "And if I refuse?"

She didn't have much of an answer to that—probably because she knew he could take her in a fight if it ever came down to it—but she wasn't about to tell him that. With all the bravado she could muster, she said, "Then I'll take it by force. So if you'll just hand it back to me, I'll be on my way—"

"Hmmm…." Izaya suddenly had ripped the picture out of his coat pocket, giving an interested glance to the crumpled item. He looked as though he was a zealot looking at the face of God. After a few moments of awkward silence, Izaya smiled, though it was hardly friendly. "Nah, I think I'll keep it. It's a good picture, don't you think?" He purposefully ignored the glare being sent his way. "Besides, you still don't know why I came all the way here. You sure you really don't want to know?"

Misaki sighed, deflating like a popped balloon. This guy was impossible. "Fine, Orihara—Izaya-san, I'll listen to whatever you have to say. If I do that, will you give me that picture back?" Izaya nodded jovially, his smile contagious, and Misaki found herself almost smiling. Almost, and she would have too, if she didn't want to rip apart his body from the inside out. "Then please, PLEASE continue."

It was all the encouragement he needed. Akin to earlier, he slunk over to the other side of the table, grabbing Misaki's hands with his own, though this time, she barely batted an eyelash, slowly becoming used to his unnecessary touches. "Well, Misa-chan… I always have hated being the bearer of bad news…" He gave a hesitant look away, for once looking abashed and… surprisingly human.

Misaki found she could not peel her eyes away.

Giving her a sad smile, he said, "Shizu-chan is… well, he…" He looked away, uncertainty flashing in his eyes, though she slowly felt pressure against her hands. "Shizu-chan, or rather, Heiwajima Shizuo, is pretty well-known from where I'm from, Ikebukuro. He's… not the person you think he is." He paused for a moment, almost as if he was staring at something not quite there, before he gave Misaki a shaken smile. "He's a monster, Misaki-chan. A monster… He destroys people for money and attacks them on a regular basis. He's part of gang back home—the Dollars, if I remember correctly—and though he might not seem like it, I have reason to believe that he's only here to steal all of your family's money."

The world seemed to stop. Shizuo… wanted to steal their money? Her own flesh and blood cousin? A snarky voice in the back of her head said her dad had been the same, but she blatantly ignored it, her mind trying to wrap around the fact that SHIZUO HEIWAJIMA—a man who, fierce though his temper was, seemed like a genuinely good guy—wanted to steal their money. She just couldn't believe that he would be that underhanded, that deceitful… Especially since she'd met Izaya. If anything, he seemed more manipulative, more cunning, more terribly indecent than her cousin could ever hope to be. But as the seconds ticked by, Misaki found herself disagreeing with that more and more. Right now, he seemed so human, so much unlike his persona since she'd met him that she wondered if it had all been an act. An act…

"What do you mean, Izaya-san?" She asked, her voice unwittingly low and intimate, like she was telling a secret to her lover. "How can Shizuo-nii… or rather, _**why**_ would Shizuo-nii do that? We're family…"

Leaning in dangerously close, Izaya said, his voice barely above a whisper, "Family can hurt each other all the time. I mean, even your dad—someone who's supposed to protect you, to never give up on you—isn't any different."

"_He's exactly the same as Shizuo."_

Misaki's breath hitched. Nothing existed—not the room, not the rapidly cooling food, not the elegant diners dining in the hall. No, the only thing that existed was her and Izaya, right here, _at this moment_. With barely a thought, Misaki's eyes started to flutter shut, the sound of Izaya's voice floating in and out of her ears like an ocean against a cliff. Izaya smiled at the very uncharacteristic show of vulnerability, though it was a far cry from reaching his eyes.

Without any warning, Izaya pulled back, though he was still extraordinarily close to the girl who was known for her intense hatred of men. Smiling brightly, he rustled around in his coat pocket before he handed Misaki a white card, small and unassuming in its size, though hardly unimportant. "Here, Misa-chan~" He chuckled as she slowly blinked her eyes open, almost like she had been in a trance, her eyelids drooping and an unintelligent look coming into her eyes. Resisting the urge to laugh hysterically at how easy this was, he thrust the card forward, which she reluctantly took, a small frown etched on her face. "This is—"

"A business card?" At his nod, she turned it over in her hands, the paper cool in a room that had gotten surprisingly hot in a matter of moments. It was plain, she noticed; as plain as could be, with just two words written on it. It said:

_Orihara Izaya_

There was no number, no address, not even a hint as to what this man's job was. It was simple and utterly impersonal, but for a reason she could not explain, she felt there was more to it than that. Giving a confused look at the informant, she said, "Uh, Orihara-san… this doesn't say anything."

"Sure it does." His eyes were mischievous. "It says 'Orihara Izaya.'"

Misaki groaned, the moment of intimacy only moments before forgotten as quickly as it had come. "I know that, but… shouldn't there be a number? Or an address? An email? This doesn't tell me anything!"

"Oh?" Like he was surprised, he leaned over her shoulder, his breath tickling her ear. After a moment, he said, "Would you look at that? I must've forgotten to put it on there when I was making it!" He laughed and after a shaky moment, Misaki chuckled too, the ticklish feeling of soft laughter on her neck giving her a heady high. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she was screaming that this was not okay, that she barely knew this man and that she shouldn't be feeling such emotions over him. He could be a pervert for all she knew!

As if that stopped the blush that crept steadily across her cheeks.

"Well here," he said, grabbing a pen that had seemed to materialize out of thin air. "Let me write it down." And, as if it were possible, he got closer and closer to her neck, his other hand that was not holding the pen balancing on her shoulder, his touch sending a strange tingle up her arm. A fire seemed to ignite her face.

Damn it, she was not blushing. Damn it, she was not blushing! Damn it—

"There," he cooed, though he hardly removed his person from her personal space. "It's all done, Misa-chan~"

"….."

"Huh?" He leaned closer, a curious look on his face. "What was that?"

"It's… Misaki… My name…" She sighed and then seemed to physically inflate, like a balloon against a propane tank. "My name is Misaki! Not 'Misa-chan!'"

And suddenly, he laughed. He laughed and laughed and laughed, his body still hovering WAY too close for comfort, tears gathering in the corners of his eyes. Misaki, at an odd angle, couldn't see him and missed the manic grin that flashed across his face.

_Seriously, humans are the best! I love 'em! I seriously, seriously love 'em!_

Wiping the tears away from eyes, he opened his mouth to say something when an unfamiliar voice wafted through the air.

"Ayuzawa!" A blonde-haired youth, his hair shaggily hanging over his bright green eyes, barged in, gait worried, frenzied. Izaya noticed almost instantly that he was foreign—at least partially—and he was carrying her school uniform in his hand, his hand grasping it as though it was a sacred treasure. Quickly flipping through his mind, Izaya placed a name with a face—Usui Takumi.

This was Usui Takumi or, as Izaya had heard affectionately termed, a 'perverted space alien.'

"Ayuzawa! Ayuzawa, are you alright—?" He stopped suddenly, like a wall had appeared in the center of the room, eyes wide with anger and… was that a little bit of hurt as well?

It had taken him all of three seconds to notice Izaya's presence around Misaki. He zoomed in on her sitting at the table with him hovering over her, his hand resting precariously over her shoulder, his terrible gaze menacing—challenging. He didn't miss the scarlet blush on her cheeks nor the plunging dress that would've enraptured him had it been anywhere else. All he saw was the man, hovering over her, the memories of Tora from all those weeks ago inundating his mind like a floodgate.

"Ayuzawa…" He sounded lost, like a puppy that had been kicked by its master. That didn't last though and he suddenly glared at Izaya, his cat like eyes shining brighter than an emerald under the sun. "Get away from her!"

"Usui, wait!" She jumped out of Izaya's grasp, fully intent on stopping Usui, but it was too late. Quicker than the eye could see, Usui's fist shot out and connected with Izaya's right cheek, sending him flying. He flew over the table, taking most of the cold delicious food with him, an angry imprint of a fist quickly becoming visible even in the dim lighting. Izaya, perhaps too shocked to do anything but stand there, lay on the floor for a few moments, his expression unreadable.

Misaki rushed to his side, checking his face for injuries, hoping that Usui hadn't broken anything too important. Seeing as it was just a nasty bruise on his face, Misaki sighed, though not before turning a harsh glare towards Usui.

"Usui!" she growled, her eyes narrowed into slits. She angrily stalked over to a slightly befuddled Usui. "What the hell. Were. You. Thinking?!" She stabbed her finger into his chest each time, the words so vitriolic that Usui thought she would start spitting venom. He took a hesitant step back from her rage and a part of him—the childish, naïve part of him—wanted to scream back at her or even better, to beat that bloody smirk off of the other man's face—but instead, he took a deep breath and grabbed Misaki's hand.

"Come on, Ayuzawa, we're leaving." He found he couldn't meet her eyes, much to both their chagrins. "I already have your uniform."

"Usui!" She attempted to pull free from his grip, but found her efforts fell flat. Instead she simply glared, her mouth set in a harsh line. "Usui, let me go! You're being rash—"

"Misaki." He suddenly stopped, his back towards her which prevented her from reading his face. After a moment, he gave a sad smile back. "Just… please. Come with me, okay? I told you. I'm quite possessive and I really don't like sharing."

She felt a heated blush creep up her neck, but whether it was from embarrassment or shock, she couldn't tell. She gave a little look back to Izaya, then back to Usui, and finally sighed a little, disentangling herself from Usui's grip. "Fine," she conceded, her eyes staring intently into his. "I'll leave, but I have to get something first."

Walking over to Izaya, she said, "Orihara-san, if you could give that picture to me, I'll be on my way." She held her hand out expectantly, her expression unreadable, the blushing girl from all those moments ago completely forgotten as though she'd never existed. Izaya smirked internally. It seemed she'd gotten braver, but even he could tell that was because that Usui Takumi kid was in the room.

Standing up, he rustled around in his coat pocket before handing her the picture. "I guess our fun came to an end, Misa-chan~" Her brows furrowed as he thrust the picture into her waiting hand. She hesitantly took it. "But just keep in mind what I said, Mi-sa-ki." He didn't miss the way both bristled at the use of her name. Staring straight at Usui, he said to Misaki, "You really don't know what could happen in a few hours …"

Like she'd been shocked, she jerked the picture out of his hand and turned back to Usui. "I'll keep that in mind, Orihara-san." And with those cryptic words, she grabbed Usui's hand and led him out of the room, the feeling of the business card weighing heavily in her hand.

XXX

It was nearly twelve o'clock when the two students reached Seika High.

Misaki gave a covert glance towards Usui, but just like it had been since they'd left, he hadn't said a word to her, much less glanced at her. He was sulking, she knew, but what did he really have to sulk about? He was being childish, ridiculous… worried. She knew he'd been worried too, if how he punched Orihara had any say in it, worried for her and her own wellbeing. It was… strange, this worry, terribly, terribly strange. She wasn't used to people caring about her like that, especially a man. After all, Usui—regardless of how he acted—was still a guy. On one side, she was angry that he didn't trust her, that he didn't think she could handle herself in the face of adversity. Be it Orihara, Tora, or even that insufferable trio of idiots—it was like he didn't have any faith in her abilities, didn't have any faith in her reputation as _Demon_ President of Seika High.

But then, another part of her (something that she'd deny if anyone mentioned it) was touched by his worry, his motives, the way he seemed to save her even when she didn't deserve it. No matter what she said to him, she knew he was always there for her. Always. It annoyed her that she'd gotten so used to his heroics that she sort of expected them now, but she supposed it was just her fault for being so careless. In a way unlike Usui, she was unreliable. Every time she tried to save him, to help him like he helped her, he would always end up bailing her out of her mess. She thought back to the picture from Maid Latte and when he jumped a roof; the fight with Miyabigaoka and his chess skills that saved their butts; and even with Tora, when he found her just as some unpleasant things were about to happen. He was always there for her…

But it still didn't give him any right.

"Usui." She could feel his eyes on her, his answer far from his lips, though she didn't mind. If anything, she glanced away, almost like she was folding in upon herself, a bright blush raging across her cheeks. "Usui… you—you didn't have any right to do that. I mean, what the hell were you thinking?! He wasn't doing anything to me—we were only talking, you know. He wasn't trying to hit on me or rape me or whatever the hell is going through your twisted head. And—"

"Misaki, I'm sor—"

She glared over at him, though her blush seemed to expand and cover her entire face. "You didn't let me finish idiot! And, and—look, I'm sorry okay? I know you worry in your weird, perverted alien ways, and for that, I'm sorry." She took in deep breath, having said that all in one, and awaited for his answer. Would he yell at her? Not forgive her? Say he never wanted to speak to her again? Or…

"You can at least say something!" she fumed, finally making that dreaded eye contact. "I-I mean, if you don't want to see me anymore or something, I'll understand—" Her breath hitched as two strong arms folded her against a warm chest, the soothing scent of vanilla and lavender causing nirvana in her nose. She blushed madly, her hands clasping his shirt, though she hardly pulled away.

In fact, if she was being completely honest, she would say that she didn't want to pull away at all.

"Misa-chan, sometimes you're too cute for your own good." He hugged her tighter if it were possible, almost like she would disappear at a moment's notice.

She flushed and tightened her grip against his shirt. "Stupid Usui…" she muttered. "Stupid, stupid Usui…"

XXX

"So this is the one?"

The day was waning, waning away, the room incredibly silent. Plate upon plate of delicious food, cold after so long of sitting out in the stagnant air, sat on a beautiful wooden table, its matching two chairs seeming to cement the fact that this was a lovers' dinner. A black-haired man, unsightly bruise forming on his cheek, sat around the food, much like a bridegroom who had been left behind at the altar. But unlike a bridegroom, he was smiling benevolently, a shiny piece of paper floating precariously in his grip. Glancing up at the two men, his smile seemed to widen. "Yes, that's him."

The two men, both huge and burly in their own rights, glanced at each other skeptically before the taller one cleared his throat. "Exactly what do you want us to do, Orihara-san?"

"Oh, drop the –san, Jun-chan~ Just call me Izaya~" He laughed a little and almost spun in his chair, before he realized where he was. "As to your earlier question, there isn't really a lot I want you to do." His eyes narrowed dangerously, terrifying smile still in place. "Just find Usui Takumi."

"That's it?"

Izaya laughed and thrust the picture into his waiting hands. "That's hardly ever it, Jun-chan~ No, I want you to find Usui Takumi…"

"And destroy him."

XXX

**So hey there guys! I know I haven't been on here for a while… It's actually kind of funny, in a way. I've had about half of this chapter down for weeks, but I never got around to finishing it before now. Also, I just updated my other story called "Invictus Memorium" (please check it out if you have the time ****) and barely got any reviews, whereas this story got tons of reviews, favorites, and alerts even in having not updated in so long. **

**I guess I'm trying to say, thank you! Also, were Misaki and Izaya too OOC during this chapter? Your reviews would be appreciated!**

**So just review…**


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